18+ ONLY! ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS! Mostly reblogs of abdl captions and posts but might post something original every now and then. If you are the owner of any image used in any of my posts that aren't reblogs and want the post removed please message me and I will gladly do so. Additionally if you are the owner of a post I reblog and a caption I make on the reblog post makes you uncomfortable or anything like that and you want me to remove or change it, please message me and I will gladly do that as well.
**This series is based on and in the same universe as in "Classified: My New Life." I don't know which version is the original, so I won't link it, but its on Wattpad. I'm not a true ABDL, but even I know its an amazing story. Trying to do it justice."
Samantha could barely pay attention. She’s heard this same spiel so many times. She gets it. She’s over it. She’s not going to be a Little anyway, so why does she have to sit through her school principal drone on about it again and again?
Today was Classification Day. Every year, on the last day of high school, students receive their test results. Samantha had heard it so many times before, she knew exactly what the classifications were: Caregivers, Neutrals, and Littles. The classifications were based on DNA tests. Each person was genetically predisposed to one of the three.
Caregivers were the backbone of society, according to the principal. Caregivers, unsurprisingly, were usually found in jobs and roles that allowed them to help others, filling their genetic desire to be needed. In the years before they turn 25, they gain more strength to allow them to meet the needs of their roles. 25 is a special age for Caregivers. It’s the age they are legally deemed Caregivers. It’s the age they are allowed to adopt Littles, should they desire to do so.
Neutrals gain no genetic advantages (or disadvantages if you ask them). They are genetically identical to humans before the Great Mutation, when humans suddenly developed the Caregiver and Little genes. They are allowed to adopt Littles, though the process is much more complicated. Neutrals, for the most part, live regular lives.
Littles, on the other hand, fall into three categories. Level One Littles lose the most muscle mass, emotional maturity, and physical abilities, such as walking. Most lose the ability to say more than a few words. They are, for all intents and purposes, babies.
Level Two Littles are commonly referred to as Toddlers. They are mobile, able to walk and talk, but lose all continence. They, like Level One Littles, are in diapers full time. They lose much of their emotional maturity, though retain all their previous mental faculties.
Level Three Littles are the most independent of the Littles. They often have decent potty control, with some requiring Pull-Ups in case of accidents, and some even able to go without any protection—provided they can get to the bathroom in time. Both Level Two and Three Littles were permitted to attend simplified college courses and even hold some jobs, provided their Caregiver permits it. And of course, subject to their needs and requirements as Littles.
But none of that mattered to Samantha. She had everything planned out. She’d been accepted to Stanford University on a full scholarship with the engineering department. She was literally going to become a rocket scientist.
“Why do we have to sit through this again,” Samantha asked her best friend, Lindsay, “how many times do they think we need to hear this?” Samantha and Lindsay had been best friends since first grade. They grew up together, they might as well have been sisters.
“It’s the worst,” Lindsay replied. Lindsay also had a bright future ahead of her. She’d be attending UCLA on a volleyball scholarship. Her whole family was tall and athletic. Both Lindsay’s parents and sister were caregivers. No one doubted Lindsay would be one too.
Samantha and her parents were Neutrals. Nobody in her family had been anything but Neutral. Unlike Lindsay’s family, Samantha’s parents held deeply prejudicial views about Littles. They were "burdens on society, living off the system." Samantha was careful to hide her parents’ prejudices from her friends.
“Do you think your sister is going to adopt someone from our class?” Samantha asked Lindsay. Alyssa, Lindsay’s sister, was 27 years old. Samantha had always looked up to Alyssa. Alyssa always had her life together. She attended USC on a volleyball scholarship, won two national titles, and graduated summa cum laude with a degree in accounting.
“I hope so! She’s been talking about adopting a Little for two years,” Lindsay huffed, “I’m sick of hearing about it. Just do it already.”
One tedious hour later, the principal had finished. The seniors were sent to their homerooms to receive their results. Samantha sat next to Lindsay, same as always. Their teacher called each of their names, handing them an envelope with their Classification results. The class waited until all the results had been handed out before they opened their results.
Around the room, people reacted to their Classification. Samantha, not worried about her Classification, watched with the others with interest. Most were, unsurprisingly, Neutrals, as Neutrals represented about 55% of the population.
Mark Gillespie, the starting quarterback of the football team, screamed in anguish. He put his head down, sobbing. Samantha knew what that reaction meant; Mark learned he was a Level One Little.
She turned to Lindsay, “poor guy, he was so good at football too. Maybe your sister will adopt him!”
“I think Alyssa wants a Level Two Little to be honest,” Lindsay said as she opened her envelope. She smiled, “Caregiver, surprise! Open yours, Sam!”
Samantha opened her envelope. She read it once. “No, no that can’t be right,” she thought to herself. She read it again. The world froze around her. Every time she read it, she started over, assuming it was a bad dream, and that the next time she read it she’d see “Classification Result: NEUTRAL.”
But it never did. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t change it. She stared in horrified disbelief:
Taylor thought her senior year of college was going to be the best year of her life. It was her last year to soak in the college experience, and she intended to do just that.
She never expected it to end up like this.
Taylor always wondered how her boyfriend, Sean, managed to stay so relaxed under pressure. It was the quality she admired most about him. No matter what was happening he was always calm, cool, and collected.
Unlike Taylor. Whether it was midterms, essays, or even making it to the 8 AM class she had to take, she incessantly stressed over it. Not even Sean's steady presence and assurances could soothe her frayed nerves.
The situation only got worse as she started Spring semester. With graduation approaching like a runaway freight train, Taylor knew she'd be thrust into the adult world in only a few months. She'd need a job, an apartment, all of it. Taylor couldn't have been more overwhelmed.
Unfortunately for Taylor, her nerves came with significant side effects. Side effects that would change the trajectory of her life and relationship with Sean.
You see, there was a direct correlation between Taylor's nerves and her overactive bladder. The more nervous she became, the more you'd find Taylor sprinting to the bathroom, fighting an overwhelming urge to pee.
For years, it had merely been an annoyance, not a problem. Sure, she'd need to rush to the bathroom, but she'd always make it. Nothing to worry about, just something to deal with.
So Taylor pushed it aside. She had more pressing concerns, anyway.
“What do you want to do for spring break, babe? Sean asked as they ate dinner at his apartment. Taylor loved his apartment—it was her safe space, her haven. Unlike Taylor, Sean lived alone. Though Taylor spent so much time there she might as well have been on the lease.
Taylor thought about it. She wouldn’t settle for somewhere basic and cliché—it was her last Spring Break, after all. No, this trip had to be special—their last hurrah before they became boring adults.
Taylor didn’t know it yet, but she would never become the adult she imagined.
“What about Mexico?” Taylor responds, “maybe Cabo or Cancun?”
For the rest of the night, they mulled over increasingly exotic destinations. For a few hours, Taylor forgot all about her worries and concerns. At least until she tried to sleep. Before long, Taylor went from imagining partying on some foreign beach with Sean to her future after it, never noticing her growing need to pee as she fitfully drifted off to sleep.
“Taylor…Taylor. Wake up.”
Taylor heard Sean’s voice trickle into her dream. For as anxious as she was falling asleep, she had remarkably good dreams. She was dancing with Sean, taking shots on bars, and…something else. She remembered sprinting to the bathroom, feeling the intense relief of making it on time.
“Taylor,” she heard Sean say again, shocking her awake. She felt cold and…wet. “You wet the bed last night.”
Sean expertly handled the situation. Taylor was obviously mortified, but both of them chalked it up to a one-off event. She wasn’t a bedwetter, Sean assured her. It happens every so often.
Except Taylor woke up in a puddle every morning for five days. The more it happened, the more worried Taylor became. The more she worried, the more likely she was to wake up wet. It was a vicious cycle. A cycle that Taylor would never escape.
As always, Sean never showed any signs of panic or concern. Every morning when he inevitably woke up in a wet bed, he calmly woke Taylor up and washed the sheets, assuring Taylor everything was okay.
That night, Taylor went to Sean’s apartment as usual. It had been a long week for Taylor between the bedwetting and a tedious, difficult courseload. She needed a quiet Friday night with Sean.
Taylor noticed something different about Sean, though. There were subtle, almost imperceptible changes in his behavior. Sean was always helpful, respectful, and generous, yet tonight he seemed even more so. Taylor couldn’t put her finger on it.
Something about the way Sean acted made him feel…was powerful the right word? Maybe authoritative? Taylor tried to decide. He wasn’t bossy or mean—no, it felt too loving to be either. He just seemed more…in control. Protective.
Whatever it was, Taylor didn’t mind. She felt surprisingly safe and comfortable, even when he insisted he handle dinner while Taylor relaxed. Or when he cleaned the dishes himself. Or when he unilaterally decided they should watch Finding Nemo, saying it was “perfect” for her. Even when he rebuffed Taylor’s request for a glass of wine. Taylor contented herself with cuddling with Sean under the blankets on the couch, watching the movie.
Once the movie ended, Sean decided it was time for bed. As they got up to head to his bedroom, Taylor heard him say something that flushed her cheeks with embarrassment: “Taylor, can you try to go potty before bed?”
Taylor froze. She’d never heard Sean call it a “potty” before. Despite her overwhelming embarrassment hearing his suggestion, Taylor meekly agreed. “O-okay,” she said, barely more than a whisper. Taylor didn’t use the “potty,” though, unwilling to give in to Sean’s infantile demands.
But Taylor’s embarrassment was only beginning. As she walked into his bedroom after humiliating time on the “potty,” she found another, even more humiliating item waiting for her on his bed: a package of pull-ups. Sean sat next to them, waiting expectantly for Taylor.
“Wh-what are those?” Taylor stuttered.
“It’s time you wore some protection to bed, Taylor,” Sean said sternly, yet with a surprising undercurrent of love, “your accidents aren’t stopping. So you need to wear these until you get it under control.”
Taylor understood this wasn’t a negotiation. Sean expected her to wear the infantile garments next to him. She watched as he calmly opened the package, taking out the pull-up she would soon be wearing. Seeing it made her stomach drop, the yellow and blue stripes a poor imitation of the underwear it would soon replace.
“Come here, Taylor,” he said, the authority unmistakable in his voice. Taylor did, wordlessly walking towards the inevitable humiliation. Without another word, he pulled down Taylor’s pants, then underwear. He fluffed the pull-up, separating the leg holes.
“Up,” he demanded, tapping her left leg. When she did, Sean slipped the pull-up over her leg, up to her calf. The process repeated with the other leg. Soon, the pull-up was lifted into place.
“There,” Sean said, satisfied, “how does it feel, Taylor?”
A dawning realization grew in Taylor’s mind. Sean’s behavior all night made sense. He treated Taylor exactly how you’d expect to treat someone who still wears pull-ups—all part of the power dynamic that inherently comes with diapers.
“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” Taylor thought in a panic, “I don’t need pull-ups!”
Sean never took his eyes off Taylor. He patiently waited for her to answer.
To Taylor’s horror, her body answered for her. Her frayed nerves were pushed past their breaking point, throwing her bladder into overdrive. Without warning, Taylor felt her bladder violently spasm. Before she could even react, she felt a growing warmth in her pull-up. She looked down in terror, unable—unwilling—to comprehend what was happening.
For a nanosecond, Sean’s eyes grew wide when he realized what was happening before regaining his composure. He saw a darkness spread in Taylor’s pull-up, expanding as it did. Neither spoke until Taylor finished.
Calm as always, Sean looked up at Taylor’s face, her cheeks red with shame. “Well, I’m glad you were wearing your pull-up!”
“I-I-I don’t u-understand!” Taylor sobs, humiliation getting the best of her.
“I do,” Sean replied, getting up and hugging Taylor, “you had an accident. Like the ones you’ve been having all week. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Taylor. I’m here.”
Their embrace was interrupted by the sound of dripping. Sean stepped back, looking down at Taylor’s now leaking pull-up.
He sighed. “Taylor, honey, I don’t think these pull-ups will cut it, especially if you’re going to keep having accidents when you’re awake. Tomorrow, we’ll get you something more suited to your needs.”
Even though it was left unsaid, Taylor knew exactly what he meant: diapers. And even worse, he thought she was having daytime accidents. Well, she was having daytime accidents.
Panic and frustration welled inside Taylor. “I don’t need diapers! I’m not a baby!” Taylor shrieked, her tone very much as infantile as the baby she denied being.
“Look at me,” Sean commanded, “I understand you’re embarrassed. But you just leaked through your pull-up. You weren’t sleeping when you wet it. You obviously need diapers if you don’t want to leak every time you have an accident. And you’ll need them whenever you’re at risk of having an accident, which now appears to be when you’re asleep and awake.”
The next morning, Taylor followed Sean into his car. Every step reminded her of the pull-up that he insisted she wear. Not that Taylor could deny its necessity anymore as she passed the garbage can that now contained two wet pull-ups.
Taylor meekly held Sean’s hand as he perused the diaper aisle of the medical supply store. Grabbing diapers from the shelf, slowly, methodically inspecting them to determine if they will meet Taylor’s needs. He never asked or accepted Taylor’s input or opinion.
Finally, he settled on a case of Northshore Megamax diapers over Taylor’s whining that those diapers were too thick. She didn’t pee that much, she insisted, and besides, how would she go to the bathroom? Sean brushed her concerns away.
Once they got home, Sean led Taylor straight to their bedroom, grabbing a Megamax from the package. “Lay down,” he ordered.
For the first time she could remember, Taylor was about to be put into a diaper. Despite her fear and hesitation, she laid down. Sean—not her—was in control. She watched as he gently ripped the sides of her pull-up and removed it from her body. She expertly fluffed the diaper that would soon be wrapped around Taylor.
Without warning, Sean lifted Taylor’s legs with his left hand, sliding the diaper under her with his right. Taylor felt his strength as he did. Despite her embarrassment, she almost enjoyed his newfound authority over her.
He generously applied baby powder, its babyish scent filling the room, a subtle reminder of Taylor’s position. Taylor felt her diaper pulled up to her stomach before hearing the tabs opening, trapping her in her first diaper.
“There,” Sean beamed, checking his handiwork and fretting with the leak guards, “perfect fit!”
Taylor stood up, the bulk between her legs unmistakable. “These are so bulky, Sean! I don’t need them this thick!”
Sean just laughed. “You don’t need to worry about that, okay? Besides, we need to go over the new rules for your diapers first.”
“R-rules?” Taylor stammers.
“Yes, silly,” Sean responded, “what did you expect?”
“I expected not to be in a diaper!” Taylor retorted.
“Well, I’m not the one who wet the bed all week. Or leaked through a pull-up when I was wide awake. Hard to expect not to be in a diaper when that happens, babe.”
Taylor glared at him, no clever responses forming in her head.
“Anyway. Rule number one: you are absolutely, unequivocally not in charge of your diapers, understand? I am. You are not to touch, remove, or change your diaper under any circumstances. I will check and change your diaper when I see fit.”
Taylor opened her mouth to argue. “Don’t interrupt, sweetie. I need you to hear these rules, okay?”
“Good, thank you, Taylor. Rule number two,” Sean continued, “you can tell me whenever you need to go to the bathroom and I will help remove your diaper. If you go two weeks without having an accident during the day, I won’t keep you in them. Same for night. But if you do have an accident, the 2-week period resets. If you are not out of diapers by Spring Break in three months, I will keep you in them permanently. If that happens, you will use them for everything. No exceptions.”
“Rule number three, you are not to wear anything over your diaper when we are home. I want to see if you’ve had an accident. And, hopefully, it will inspire you to act like a big girl and not wet your diapers.”
“Rule number four: you will listen to what I say at all times. Anyone in diapers cannot be in charge. It’s absurd to think they could. So, until you’re out of diapers, I am in charge. I will order for you at restaurants, decide what you wear for class, and when you go to bed.”
“Rule number five: you will not touch yourself or orgasm without my permission. Diaper girls do not get such luxuries.”
“And, finally, rule number six: if you break any of these rules, you will lose a “big girl” privilege. They will not come back until you are out of diapers. So, for example, if you do something like talk back to me, I’ll expect you to use a pacifier until you learn to think before you speak. Got it?”
Taylor couldn’t believe what she heard. Sean expected her to follow these rules? She’s an adult, not some petulant little girl. But even as she wanted to yell at him, to tell him what she thought of his BS “rules,” she realized she was…turned on.
How could she be, though? It didn’t make sense. Why did this bulky, humiliating diaper between her legs feel so good?
As she stared into Sean's eyes, she knew she would follow his rules. She was a diaper girl, wasn’t she? And if she was, Sean should be in charge. He’s always been so calm, so collected while she was never either of those.
Taylor didn’t understand it, but she knew she wanted this. She needed this. A devious smile flashed across Taylor’s face. “Got it, daddy.”
Sean returned the smile. Whatever this was, it was going to be fun.
The warm, wet diaper forcing Taylor to waddle through campus was all she could think about. The source of her inner conflict.
She loved her diapers; she hated her diapers. Two equally powerful, diametrically opposed feelings battling for supremacy in Taylor’s mind.
She yearned for the moments Sean used her diapers’ humiliating power to drive her wild with passion. Yet, Taylor was increasingly concerned that her diapers weren’t just a kinky addition to their relationship, but a necessity.
Taylor wasn’t waddling through campus in a wet diaper because she thought it would be hot. She didn’t want to wet her diaper at all. And she especially didn’t want to wet her diaper so publicly in the middle of her well-attended lecture.
Humiliation is not created equal, a lesson Taylor learned today by brutal experience. The humiliation she craves with Sean is controlled, built on a foundation of deep trust, love, and consent, done in private. She wants it.
But this was very real, very public humiliation.
It started like any other lecture, with Taylor dutifully taking notes, sipping on her iced latte. It was a dull class but a prerequisite for her major. A poor grade here would have damaging results to her career.
Taylor did her best to ignore the diaper between her legs. Today was her first-ever class in diapers. While Sean assured her nobody could tell she was wearing a diaper, Taylor wasn’t so sure. It felt so obvious, as if there was a flashing neon arrow pointing down at her saying “She’s in a Diaper!!”
Halfway through class, Taylor felt the urge to pee. She ignored it; it wasn’t a pressing urge. Besides, there would be a 10-minute break in a half hour. She’d go to the bathroom then.
Taylor may enjoy her new diapered game with Sean, but she was determined to make it two weeks without an accident. She wanted to prove she didn’t need them—even if she enjoyed this new role with Sean.
But twenty-five minutes later, another significantly stronger urge struck Taylor. Panicked, Taylor immediately stood up to rush to the bathroom, not noticing the distraction her sudden movement caused. She squeezed past the other students as quickly as possible, desperate to reach the bathroom.
Taylor suddenly stopped, her change of pace drawing even more attention. She squeezed her legs as tight as she could, furiously fighting her bladder for control. Her effort proved futile. She felt her bladder release a flood into her diaper. Her face flushed with embarrassment.
Taylor felt the multitude of eyes on her. The silence in the room rang in her ears—her mad dash drawing her professor’s attention, who silently watched in shock. The silence only interrupted by the faint hissing sound of Taylor’s accident.
Trapped in the position, unable to flee the intense, overwhelming humiliation, Taylor whimpered in shame. She peed for what seemed like days. Her diaper expanded rapidly to contain her bladder’s barrage.
Finally, mercifully, it was over. Taylor saw the confused faces of her classmates, wondering what happened. Many of them must have thought Taylor was having some kind of accident, yet there were no telltale signs of one. Her pants weren’t wet. There was no smell.
Taylor prayed nobody would put the pieces together. That she did have an accident—and that she was prepared for it. She didn’t dare look at her skirt to see if her diaper was now noticeable.
“Are you okay, Miss?” her professor asks.
“Y-yes,” Taylor lied, wracking her brain for an excuse. Then, suddenly, she thought of one. Embarrassing as it would be to say out loud, it was far better than the truth. “I just had a nasty cramp, it's my, well, you know.”
Taylor didn’t wait to find out if they believed her lie. Apologizing to the professor, she grabbed her things and left. She headed to the bathroom to inspect the damage, hoping her diaper bulge wasn’t noticeable.
Taylor’s heart sank when she looked in the mirror. There was an unmistakable bulge in her skirt, a near-perfect outline of her soaked diaper. The implication paralyzed Taylor. There was no escaping the obvious truth: everyone in her class knew she just wet her diaper.
She looked at her watch. Her class was about to go on break. Her diaper would undoubtedly be the only topic of conversation. How could it not? How often is a college class interrupted while someone pees their diaper?
Taylor fled. The thought of looking her classmates in the eye while standing in a diaper they know is wet was too overwhelming. Grabbing her things, she took a deep breath. She walked—or, more accurately, waddled—as fast as she could, heading straight for her car.
She sobbed the entire drive to Sean’s apartment. She needed his calming, loving presence more than ever. It didn’t matter that her diaper was wet. All that mattered was that she would be safe.
“Hey babe, everything okay?” Sean asked as she walked inside, noticing Taylor’s tears.
Taylor didn’t say anything. She ran to Sean, needing his embrace. He happily obliged, wrapping her in a hug.
He held her as she sobbed. Sean suspected the cause of Taylor’s sobs. Keeping Taylor in a hug with his left hand, he reached down with his right, putting his hand under Taylor’s skirt, checking her diaper for the wetness he knew he’d find.
“You had an accident, didn’t you, Taylor?” he asked. Taylor answered in sobs.
Sean grabbed her hand, pulling her to the bedroom. He laid Taylor on the floor, removing her skirt and exposing her soaked diaper. Taylor continued to sob, hands covering her face. Sean got right to work changing her diaper.
A few minutes later, Taylor had a fresh, dry diaper. “Okay, babe, all done! Can we talk about it now?”
Through sobs, Taylor explained everything that happened: how obvious her diaper was to everyone, how everyone knew she wears diapers now.
Sean smiled. “Well, you do wear diapers now, babe, I hate to break it to you. And why are you grabbing your shorts?”
The firmness of Sean’s question startled Taylor. “I-I just wanted to put them on,” she whimpered.
“Sorry, but nothing goes over your shorts, you know that. I need to be checking your diaper if you’re having accidents.”
Taylor felt the now familiar pull between two worlds. The comfort of Sean’s authority and the hatred of her diapers. She wanted nothing more than to rip off her diaper, to throw them all away. Nothing except Sean. She dropped her shorts.
“Good girl.”
“W-what am I going to do, Sean?” Taylor whined, “everyone knows! How can I look them in the eye?”
“Why do you care what they think? I know you wear diapers and I’m still here. Who cares what random people think?”
“I do!” Taylor squealed.
“Well, you’ll be in diapers for at least two more weeks, babe. So, you can either stop caring what they think—or not. Either way, the diapers stay on.”
Sean watched the anger rise in Taylor. He opened a drawer on his nightstand, grabbing a small box, waiting for the explosion he knew was coming.
“F*ck that, Sean, I’m not playing this stupid game anymore! I don’t need diapers!”
Sean smiled. He was prepared for this. Without a word, he slowly opened the box, relishing in Taylor’s interest in the box.
“What did I say about talking back, Taylor?” he prompted, maintaining his calm.
Taylor saw what was in the box. Knew what was coming.
“I’m disappointed in you, Tay,” Sean lamented, “but rules are rules.” He put the pacifier in Taylor’s mouth.
Taylor begrudgingly accepted it, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent.
“Now, you will stand in the corner for 10 minutes. You can to use that time to calm down, okay? I won’t have you yelling at me. Once you’re calm, we can talk about it like adults.”
Taylor couldn’t believe she was walking to the corner, sucking on a pacifier with a fully exposed diaper. Why was she going along with this? She wasn’t a toddler!
Yet, she felt another sensation in her diaper. One unrelated to her bladder. She wouldn’t fight Sean. She broke the rules, she deserved to be punished. She did as she was told, staring at the wall taking deep breaths. She didn’t care how she looked.
“Okay, Tay, times up. Are you ready to talk about this like a big girl?”
Taylor moved to grab the pacifier out of her mouth.
“No,” Sean said sternly, “that stays in until I take it out.”
Taylor glared at him, wondering how he expected her to talk.
“Are you calm?”
“Yeth,” Taylor responds. The childish lisp from the pacifier made her blush with embarrassment.
“Good,” he says, grabbing the pacifier, “I’m sorry you had an accident, Tay. I didn’t want that to happen, but I’m glad you were protected. Weren’t you?”
She sighed, knowing he was right. “Yeah, it’s just so embarrassing. I’m the class diaper girl now!”
“Well, if you weren’t out of diapers by Spring Break, everyone would have known after anyway,” Sean responds cryptically.
“W-what do you mean?”
“Like I said, if you don’t go two weeks without an accident before Spring Break, you’ll be my full-time diaper girl. You’ll use your diapers for everything. You will wear them until you’re permanently, irreparably incontinent. I will do nothing to hide your status—or your loss of privileges.”
Taylor gulped. Once again, her mind was at war with itself. She wanted that. She couldn’t explain why, but she did. Even though she understood the unrelenting humiliation she’d face if it happened.
How would she look her friends in the eye when they know she’s nothing but Sean’s diaper girl? Knowing she pissed away her independence, autonomy, and privacy?
Not that it mattered. Could she even go two weeks without an accident anymore? Her control was rapidly deteriorating, that was undeniable. But if she became incontinent, wouldn’t it be better to let Sean take charge? If she’s going to be in diapers anyway, why not have Sean there to help?
“I-I understand.”
Sean hugs her. “Im glad you do, babygirl. I want you to understand I’ll love you no matter what. Whether you’re out of diapers or my diapered queen. I’ll always love you. It’s just, things might be very different for you in diapers.”
“I know. I love you too, Sean.”
“Now, are you ready to head back to campus? We need to take care of some things?”
“Why? I don’t have anymore classes today.”
“We need to go to the student services office babe. We need to make sure your professors know about your incontinence issues so if you have anymore problems they’ll be aware.”
Taylor couldn’t believe she was officially registered as incontinent with the school. It wasn’t that anything drastically changed because of it. There was almost nothing the school could do other than inform her professors and arrange extra time during exams so Taylor could change her diaper if necessary.
No, what made Taylor so apprehensive was how her diapers were becoming such a massive part of her life. Her relationship with Sean was now defined by her diapers. Her classmates saw her wet her diaper in the middle of class. Who knows how far that story has spread? Did her friends now? And now she was officially registered as incontinent with the school.
Thoughts raced through Taylor’s mind as she lay in bed. At least Sean was asleep, she thought. She didn’t want him to know she had another accident when she was awake, lying in bed. He’ll just assume she wet it in her sleep tomorrow morning. And she figured she’d inevitably wet her diaper tonight any like she did every night for the last week.
She wondered if Sean meant what he said tonight before bed. Would he really buy her onesies if she dressed herself again? All she wanted to do was change into her pajamas. She didn’t even think about the rules. When Sean asked what she was doing, she didn’t know what he was talking about. And Sean did not like it when Taylor said it wasn’t big deal, she’d wear what she wanted.
But onesies? Surely, they didn’t make onesies in adult sizes. They’re made for babies! Sean was probably just bluffing Taylor thought as she drifted off to sleep.
Taylor unsurprisingly woke up to a drenched diaper. She’d given up on hoping she’d stop bedwetting. All she cared about was getting out of diapers during the day—and somehow hiding her diapered status from everyone she knew for the next two weeks.
She felt a hand reach down and squeeze her diaper. “Wow, you soaked this one, Tay! You must really be enjoying your diapers since you use them so much. You know, we don’t have to wait until Spring Break to put you permanently in diapers!”
Taylor glared back at Sean. “Oh ha, ha,” she answered sarcastically, “I hate to break your heart, but I won't be in diapers in two weeks, and you’ll have to find a new power trip.”
Sean’s eyebrows rose so high in disbelief that Taylor wondered if they’d reach his hairline. “If you say so, babe! I don’t think you can go two hours without wetting your diaper, let alone two weeks.”
“Doubt me all you want, but I’ll be sipping margaritas on the beach in a bikini in Mexico for spring break! And I’ll remember your lack of faith when you try to get under my bikini!”
“I really, really admire your confidence, babe. You’re so confident for someone with what may be the wettest diaper I’ve ever seen between their legs waiting for a diaper change!”
“Whatever, just change my diaper so I can get breakfast.”
“I didn’t know I had such a demanding baby, I think someone might need her pacifier before she runs her mouth and gets into trouble!”
Taylor throws her head back in frustration, waiting for her new diaper.
As Sean got to work, Taylor wondered if she’d ever get used to having her boyfriend change her diaper.
Much to Taylor’s relief, nobody in her classes ever mentioned her accident or diapers. It was like it never happened. In fact, nobody noticed her diapers at all for the next few weeks.
It was a bittersweet realization for Taylor. She was pleasantly surprised she’d been wearing for as long as she had, and nobody ever noticed the thick, shameful padding between her legs. Even when she went out with friends. Diapers were her best-kept secret—and she intended to keep it that way.
Even her relationship with Sean had blossomed. Sure, Taylor still had to follow Sean’s rules, but he never strictly enforced them, letting Taylor get away with small things here and there. They were more like kinky regulations than rules—a roadmap for their fun.
But that’s where the good news ended for Taylor. It had been this long and she hadn’t even gone a single day without wetting her diaper. If anything, the accidents were becoming more frequent. Especially as the two-week period before spring break approached. The closer it got, the more nervous Taylor became—fueling even more accidents.
Taylor shuttered. In the last two weeks, she could use one hand to count how many times she made it to the bathroom. Her bladder had all but given up, preferring to fill her diaper rather than wait a few minutes for Taylor to reach the toilet.
“You know what today means, don’t you, princess?” Sean taunts.
Taylor feels a legion of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She knew exactly what today meant. Today was two weeks before Spring Break. The importance of the next two weeks was not lost on Taylor. Any accident from now until Spring Break and it was all over. Taylor would lose all toilet privileges—and who knows what else.
Sean may have been lenient with the rules before, but Taylor knew it wouldn’t last. Not if her diapers became permanent. Kinky or not, one more accident as she’d become Sean’s permanently diapered plaything.
The thought filled Taylor with dread.
“Y-yes,” Taylor stutters.
“Tell me what it means, Taylor.”
Taylor hesitates, shaking with nerves. “It-it means if I have one more accident…”
Sean smiles. “What happens then, princess?”
“I-I lose all my big girl privileges,” Taylor whimpers.
“Wow, such a smart little girl! What are those privileges, baby?”
“I-I’ll have to w-wear diapers at all times, and u-use them f-for everything.”
“And what else?”
Taylor shivers. “And…and…I’ll be your permanent babygirl,” Taylor squeaks.
“Yes, you will!” Sean responds triumphantly, “and don’t look all embarrassed, sweetie. You must want this because you’ve made no effort in the last few months to make it to the toilet. Clearly you crave diapers and a Daddy to care for you!”
“No, I don’t! I couldn’t help it! It’s not fair, you know I’m having problems!”
“Your urologist didn’t find anything to explain why you keep making so many tinkles in your diaper, remember? So, it must mean you want to wear your diapers.”
“Humphf,” Taylor responds, knowing Sean was twisting her urologist's words. The urologist simply said he didn’t see anything obvious to cause it.
“It doesn’t really matter, though. One more accident and Spring Break will be very different for you.”
Sean hands Taylor a cup of coffee. “Drink.”
“No, thank you,” Taylor responds.
“We have a big day today ahead of us,” Sean replies, “you’ll need it.”
“I’ll be fine,” Taylor responds, unsure why Sean said that. It was just a lazy Saturday, anyway.
“If you insist, baby. But you can’t dehydrate yourself for two weeks,” Sean answers, “now, let’s get you ready to go!”
“Go where?”
“The zoo, silly!” Sean says enthusiastically.
“But I—can’t we just hang out here today?”
“No, we can’t. And I don’t want to hear anymore whining out of you, princess.”
Taylor allows Sean to dress her, not wanting to put Sean in a bad mood. He was in charge, anyway.
After dressing Taylor, Sean grabs something out of the closet. Taylor noticed a few extra boxes that weren’t there a few days ago.
“Is…is that a diaper bag?” Taylor asks nervously.
“Yes, yes it is! You are in diapers, Taylor. What if you need a changie when we’re out?”
“I won’t, Sean! And that’s so babyish. I haven’t even had an accident yet!” Taylor adds desperately, noticing that the diaper bag was already ready to go, full of who knows what.
“We’ll see, babygirl.”
Taylor can’t help but notice Sean is treating her more like a little girl than ever before as they drive to the zoo. She hates the diaper between her legs, promising herself she would not have an accident today—or the next two weeks.
Sean buys the tickets. “What animals do you want to see first, princess?”
“I don’t care,” Taylor answers.
“Awww, I thought you’d be excited to see all the animals, baby!”
Taylor knew what Sean was doing. She also knew that one accident and this would be her new life. “You’re not funny, Sean.”
“I’m not being funny, Tay,” Sean insists, “I’m just trying to have a nice day with you.”
“You’re treating me like a child.”
“Is that what this is about? You wanting to be an adult? Well, then you’ll have to prove it, sweetie, because all I see is a girl in a diaper. Hardly an adult.”
“I am an adult, Sean. I won’t have an accident.”
“Okay, if you’re an adult, let’s get something to drink. We’ll be doing a lot of walking and it’s already hot out. Adults know they need to drink a bunch of water in those cases.”
“Fine,” Taylor snarls.
Sean buys two large water bottles. “Drink,” he says flatly.
Taylor drinks half of it, knowing any more would be dangerous.
“Thank you, Taylor. Now, let's see some elephants! They’re right over there.”
Taylor pretends to be interested in the elephants. It’s not hard, at least. She’s always loved elephants.
A twinge in her bladder throws Taylor into high alert. She needs to get to the bathroom immediately.
“S-Sean,” Taylor whimpers, “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay, let’s go to the potty!”
Taylor ignores Sean’s teasing as she rushes off, desperate to reach the toilet.
“Slow down, Taylor!” Sean commands, “don’t run over any kids!”
The bathroom is 50 yards ahead. “I can make it,” Taylor assures herself. As the bathroom gets closer, Taylor becomes more optimistic. She could hold it for another minute if she had to.
Suddenly, the ground slips out from under her, sending Taylor falling backward, terror filling her mind as she does. She lands hard on her diapered butt, pain engulfing her.
“Are you okay?” Taylor hears Sean catching up to her.
“I-I think so,” Taylor whimpers.
“Can you stand up?” Sean asks.
Taylor gets up gingerly, though she doesn’t feel hurt. Just a little shell-shocked.
“Do you need to get to the bathroom?”
Taylor forgot for a split second why she was running. She didn’t feel the urge to pee anymore. To her horror, she realized what that meant.
Sean notices the fresh panic on her face, understanding what it means. He finally got his babygirl.
The silence is so delicious I want seconds. Maybe thirds. Delicious, beautiful silence.
She was so confident. Loudly denying she would need her diaper. That I was just being dramatic.
As if she had any control left.
It was too easy. So easy I almost feel bad that she’ll be trapped in diapers for the rest of her life.
Almost.
She may whine and complain, but deep down she knows she’s a diaper girl. She knows her life is better when she’s wrapped in her thick, thirsty diapees, begging me to change her.
The potty is for grown ups, not her.
And she is not a grown up. She never was, no matter how many times she says she is—or was. Grown ups don’t fill their diapers with pushies hours after screaming she could hold it.
Grown ups don’t submit so meekly to diaper checks, dutifully pulling their pants down so Daddy can inspect their diaper. And grown ups definitely don’t fill their diaper with stinkies as often as her!
“Uh oh, looks like my little peanut’s diapee is mushy! What is my precious buttercup hiding in there?”
There it is. That silence. That beautiful, tasty silence. It turns my legs to jelly. It’s unfathomably cute.
The only thing that would make it better would be getting to see the utter defeat on her face. The humiliation. The shame. To see her realize she truly is the diaper girl I molded her into.
But I’ll settle for watching her squirm on the changing table. She’s always so cute when I unwrap the present she left for me in her diaper, as the smell dominates the room, proof of who she is.
Maybe it's because "Those diapers can hold a whole lot more. I'll change you when it's full."
Or because "Mommy is a bit busy right now, go play, and I'll see if you need to be changed later."
Or because you've been mouthing off and "I think you should try being more grateful to the person who has to change all your nasty diapers."
Or because she's still trying to potty train you and "This is what happens when we don't listen to our body. Maybe sitting in a wet diaper will show you why you need to get up and go potty."
Or just because she says so.
Or just because she put something extra in your bottle and knows your about to go again in a few minutes.
Or because of how cute you look when you're waddling around in a full diaper.
But no matter why, your warm diaper is going to grow cold long before she changes you, and you'll just have to live with sitting in a soggy, clammy diaper. Maybe you should just be grateful to mommy for putting lots of baby powder on you so you don't get a rash.
Hi babe! Are you having fun with the babysitter? How many stinky diapers has she had to change so far? Four? Five? Hahaha! Sorry, but it’s just so funny to me that you can’t control yourself anymore!
Where am I? Some dude’s place. I met him at the club. He’s just grabbing some condoms from the bathroom so we can have some real fun. Of course if he was lying about those seven inches, I brought along some of that incontinence serum I used on you and I’m gonna dose him with it. Shhh!
Anyway, got to go! I hear him coming back. Either I’m about to get railed, or the number of diaper-dependent loser boys in the world is about to grow by one! See ya later, poopy-pants!
So many times I've said it: "I don't want to wear diapers." "I want to use the potty." "I'm a big girl." I've screamed it until my throat was raw, until my voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper. I've cried it all, every tear a testament to my defiance.
But no matter how loud I screamed, no matter how hard I fought, it didn't change anything. They still took away my big girl panties, replacing them with diapers. They still made me fill every diaper they strapped onto me to the brim, ignoring my protests and pleas.
I screamed at them, at my captors, the ones who held me prisoner in this childish state. But my screams fell on deaf ears, drowned out by their laughter and mocking whispers. In their eyes, I was nothing but a helpless little.
But as time passes and I obediently fill diaper after diaper, I find myself facing a troubling realization: maybe I like it. Maybe I like the way my diaper feels all warm and snug when I pee myself, the comforting embrace of its soft padding. Maybe I like the convenience of never having to search for a bathroom again, of being free to go whenever and wherever I please.
And as I squat down to mess my diaper, hours away from the next change, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, I do like being a poopy pampers princess. The thought sends a shiver of guilt and excitement down my spine.
Surrender is only meaningful when it follows control.
True submission is not about being forced into helplessness, but about choosing to let go.
Regression does not have to be about weakness.
It can be a deliberate act of trust.
A conscious choice to relinquish control in a way that is deeply restorative.
Some fantasize about being put in diapers against their will,
So they are forced to wet themselves, or made dependent on a caregiver.
The idea of having no say in their own bodily functions,
Of being unable to resist their own regression, is deeply arousing and emotionally satisfying.
What is your fantasy? Why do you see your Mistress? . Is it true submission or is it fetish fantasy. Either way it doesn’t matter. You will always end up in diapers…
No shade to any and all other types of dominating but I have a huge affinity for humiliation where it's low stakes, light-hearted and fun :) For example:
"Hey stinker, come over here really quick, let me check you."
"Let's get you changed. No, I'm not mad! If I expected you to be able to hold it you wouldn’t have a diaper on cutie."
"It's okay if you had an accident, dork - I'm not exactly surprised at this point. Come here, lets see if you need a change"
"You really didn't notice that you peed yourself? Adorable"
"You're lucky I'm around baby, or you'd never know when you'd need to change. Which is often by the way 😇"
"Hey! This is Ash, she's my girlfriend! - just to get it out of the way, she's wearing a diaper right now since she is struggling with her control - no worries, we have it handled!"
*Pats my wet diapered butt* "Whoa kiddo - did you have a couple more accident's since last I checked?"
"Did you try to make it to the potty? Okay well that's all we can ask for! Maybe next time, stinker 🤭"
"Girl.. you wet your training diaper twice yesterday, I wouldn't exactly say we're close to fully trained"
"I'm going to grab more stickers for the bedwetting chart at the store - I'm only going to get raincloud stickers because we still have a plenty of unused sunshine stickers..."
"I hope you don't mind I told them about your diapers since we are going to be staying the night. No, it's fine, they don't care - its not exactly a secret at this point that you're still training."
"I wish you could see your face when I notice that you had an accident - you become such a blushy mess 😍"
"Do you 'think' you had an accident or do you know you had an accident and are too embarrassed to admit it?"
"Uh oh - soggy morning kiddo? That's alright, we'll try again tomorrow - Make sure to put the raincloud on the chart so we can keep track :)"
"I'd totally believe you if you weren't wearing a unicorn onesie with a soaked diaper right now"
"I'm not going to change you yet, dork - I know you're not done having accidents today"
"Come here baby, your waistband is poking out"
"Yeah she is! Come here Ash!" As I walk over, she flips up my skirt to show my used diaper "See? Told you! She needs them since she can't always hold it when she has to go.. as you can see!"
"I'll give you $10 right now if you are dry"
"It honestly makes sense that you're a bedwetter - it fits your vibe :)"
"I haven't seen your bunny stuffie in a while - did you guys break up? 😉"
*Grabs the front of my very wet diaper* "I dunno, does this feel like being a big girl to you?"
*a hissing sound starts coming from my side of the couch* "Wow you really had to go, huh baby?"
"Did you just piss your diaper while sitting in my lap?"
"Next time you feel an accident coming along let me know - I wanna put my hand on it feel you losing control 😈 that is, if you are able to notice when you have to go 🤭"
"Hold still, you are fussier to change than the kids I used to babysit"
"You're being awfully sassy towards the girl who decides if you get changed or not"
"No way girl. Those stripes are gone - wetness indicated!"
"I've never seen someone so happy to lay across my lap - its so cute"
"You're soaked butt is like a little pissy stressball that I can squeeze whenever I want to, because lets face it, you're not dry that often."
"I put your name as DPRGRL for bowling - hope that's chill 😘"
"You'd think after all these accidents, you'd stop getting so embarrassed you little dweeb 😋"
"Well, lets be clear - you're wearing diapers because you can't be trusted to hold it. You're wearing those diapers because they're so cute on you :) hope that clears it up!"
"I honestly just assume you're always a little wet. And I'm usually right lol"
"Yes, but counter point: You're wearing a diaper that you just peed in so."
"Hey cutie, wake up - I think you're dreaming of waterfalls"
"I don't want you to lose all of your control, but it is really cute to watch you fill your pampers so. Either way is good with me baby but it seems like we're headed in that direction ;)"
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom - wanna come and take notes?"
"Yeah no, I asked my friends, none of us have had an accident in the last month so you're on your own there sweetie :)"
"Hey, there's no shame in pissing your pants so often and so much that your girlfriend is compelled to start putting you in diapers and tracking your loss of control until you become a full-time bedwetter and pamper pisser - it's totally normal and reasonable.. totally😐."
"Hey stinker - got enough room in that thing for one more episode?"
"I could hold my breath longer than you can stay dry"
"Oh shut up, you love this."
Etc.
There's probably so much more but I can't think of anything else so.
Boys are just too messy. They are no good at keeping anything clean including their pants .
So a diaper simplifies things. No more "oops, it was just an accident!"
Boys already expect someone else to handle their messes so being in diapers just makes it official!
Boys think farting is funny they love to giggle about it So let's see how they like a full diaper.
Let’s see how funny it is when there's more than just air in their diaper. A few drops of magnesium citrate in their drink or even a spoonful of castor oil. Try farting now little boy’. “Oh, what's that?” Suddenly it's not so funny is it. Thought so!
And boys, well boys just get distracted too easily. They have such a short attention span
They don’t have time to remember to use the potty when there are so many other fun things to focus on?
Best to keep them safely diapered so they don't make a mess when they inevitably forget.
You see there are loads of reasons why diapers are best and that’s why ALL boys belong in diapers. So now it’s your turn!
kianamaiart
snowghoul
gummygunk
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
