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[diaperboycoreybouchard-deactiva]

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[reflexdiapers27]

[soggyshorts82]

Part IV

diapers in college and beyond...

(not a picture of me, Will remove with request from owner, not me but a picture of something that I like to do👍😉)

By the last years of college, I lived alone and had my own place. It was a regular house, small raised ranch in a regular suburban neighborhood. Not quite as private as the way that I grew up, but not so bad. For a starter house anyway...

towards the end of college, I started to make new friends in overtime I gradually admitted to them that I wore diapers. First I told him that I wore them only at night time, but from time to time I do wear them during the day (Long car rides and stuff like that) so I started to wear them around them during the day.

if they noticed or cared, they didn’t say anything how much it was to make the situation funny .

since graduating, I don’t get to see a lot of my old friends as much, so I’ve been a lot more active in the community. (The ABDL community).

like a lot of people who are making the adjustment from the constant social interaction that you have during college to a dramatic change to the point where you spend your time by yourself a lot, I found that after 2020, I started to wear diapers always almost all the time. Not quite 24 seven though . but I do wear diapers every night. I do wear them every day, with rare exceptions.

I generally don’t wear them around my parents or at family functions, but sometimes I do .

I wish I could wear them to work, but they’re a little bit of a nuisance . (and it’s not like you can really enjoy them)

i’ve told you a lot about how I’ve worn diapers over the years, but I haven’t told you too much about what I do with them ...

that’s yet another story.

hope you enjoy these !

(they are kind of a pain in the ass to write using dictation: lots of editing)

[itsmikegild28]

https://justfor.fans/mikegild

[itsmikegild28]

[uw2026]

[suitedboycaged]

My girlfriend dumped me two weeks ago. Now I’m hairless and waiting for her brother to cage me. When I met her parents, her father looked at her and said, “He’s more your brother speed, don’t you think?” I didn’t know what he was talking about but I do now. I’m a fag and today I’m going to get caged and start living like one.

[paddedbigbro]

Interview with the Diaper Boy - Part 2

My interview with Hayden continues from Part 1. There, Hayden agreed to collaborate and share about his life and experiences. Hayden is 22 years old and lives with his childhood friend and boyfriend Reid.

__________________________________________

Q: You mentioned the school's diapering policy when you were in middle school. What else do you remember about it?

A: Um . . . when you say "the school's" policy, I guess I should clarify something. The policy wasn't actually set by the middle school I went to in Fort Worth. It was broader than that. Although I assume there must have been a degree of discretion in how the policy was applied, because of how procedure changed from middle school to high school. My IEP and 504 changed too.

Q: Ok, but wait though. What is an IEP?

A: An IEP is an individualized education plan. I had an IEP because my "disabilities" were believed to impact how I learned and functioned. So that meant I needed "specialized" instruction and other support and accommodations based on my "needs." The way that worked is I had a bunch of different "goals" about my behavior, emotional regulation, impulse control and social regulation. Almost all of my "goals" were compliance based.

My step-mom monopolized that entire process when we moved to Fort Worth. Academically, she had a whole case prepared about how I was too stupid to keep up with regular subjects or even understand the material. She also said I couldn't talk or interact with others properly and I couldn't tie my shoes or recognize when I needed to go to the bathroom.

Thankfully, her say-so wasn't the only thing considered. I probably would have been forced into a self-contained classroom after I had to repeat the 6th grade, if not for the functional assessments. My grades at my old school were the primary basis for why my step-mom argued I had learning disabilities.

Q: Your "disabilities"? It sounds like you don't like that word.

A: The word "disability" is actually a term with a specific legal meaning in the context of education law, but that's not the only context in which it's used.

When people talk about "disabilities" or being "disabled" in a general sense, they rarely know what counts as a disability in a legal or policy sense and what does not. Instead, they fill in the gaps with stereotypes, over-generalizations and assumptions without any actual basis. Those tendencies have consequences that people don't think about unless they've been on the receiving end of the harm they cause.

In the context of an IEP, a "disability" includes way more than just learning and intellectual disabilities. It includes sensory, emotional, communication, physical, neurological and a ton of other kinds of disabilities. So autism, ADHD, dyspraxia and stuff like that are totally within the scope.

None of those things imply cognitive impairment. But people assume that being disabled in any way that qualifies you for an IEP means you're cognitively impaired. Like you can't learn properly. That is why autistic, ADHD and neurodivergent people (especially teenagers) get treated like very young children or infants. It's also why my idiot step-mom assumed I was stupid because I couldn't tie my shoes. Even after she had my IQ tested and she had objective proof I wasn't stupid, she still treated me like I was. It's why she made me have a fucking babysitter when I was 18 years old, for example.

Doctors did that too. They still do. They have all of my life. Here's an example. When my step-mom took me to my regular doctor when I had the flu in high school, the doctor barely even talked to me. He asked me questions like I was a toddler. Then he turned to my step-mom to ask the questions that mattered. With the answers she gave, he might have thought it was necessary to test me for mono. Which . . . just . . . no.

My step-mom gave him wrong information about MY symptoms and I corrected her. But this fucking doctor gave me the "hey buddy" line about letting her talk so he could figure out what was wrong. I hate that phrase so much. Whenever some fucking adult began their line with "hey buddy," I always knew what it meant. I would be treated like a child and talked down to, while everything I said would be totally ignored. Then if I tried to advocate for myself, my cunt step-mom would say I was being "disrespectful" and make up an excuse to punish me or whatever.

Q: That sounds really traumatizing.

A: Yeah. It was.

Q: What about your 504? What is that?

A: A 504 is a "plan" is something you get when a disability impacts your ability to fully participate in school and school-related stuff. So like if you have some kind of diagnosed disability, the point of a 504 "plan" is to figure out how you can participate in regular classes with other non-disabled students.

In all fairness I probably needed a 504 plan because I literally could not function in normal school and classroom settings. That school was a total sensory nightmare.

Q: What was it like having to repeat the 6th grade?

Bro . . . I fucking hated it. I was in these crazy easy classes and I was so bored. I got in trouble a lot because most of my teachers just wrote me off.

So here's an example. I had this one teacher who would just relentlessly bully this girl in my class who clearly had problems. I don't know what they were but she just wasn't okay. The way he looked at her was also really creepy. All of the other kids in the class just let it happen. This girl broke down in tears a few times in class.

One day I'd just had enough of watching all of this happen. It was really bothering me how he treated her because legit I'd been on the receiving end of that shit myself for all of my life. So I called him out in front of the whole class. He told me to shut up and sit down. He refused to apologize to her. Then, he got super aggressive with me and made me go to the principal's office. I got called aggressive, disruptive and insubordinate.

I told the principal what happened and yet . . . for whatever fucking reason . . . still got a written warning. Basically, a pink slip saying that if it happened again I could face some kind of disciplinary consequences.

Then my step-mom had to sign it and she totally didn't give a shit about what happened. She believed this creep bully piece of shit teacher and accused me of lying, then spanked me and made me stay in my room the whole night after I got done with my homework. Like whatever.

The next time it happened I got another pink slip and I got paddled at school. That was hilarious. So in Texas paddling students is a thing. It's legit insane. The vice principal made me bend over a chair while he hit my butt with some fucking wooden plank. Didn't hurt much because I was wearing one of those stupid medical diapers. But I was still paddled. I had three "swats" as they called it. My step-mom spanked me at home for real then, too. Like, bare bottom as per her usual ritual. But the punishment at school was a fucking joke.

Third time it happened they tried to remove me from the classroom. But eventually, the principal listened to me and that teacher had something happen to him because he straight up disappeared in the second half of the year.

Q: How many times did you get paddled?

A: I really don't remember. I think by the tenth time or so they stopped because they were concerned about getting sued.

Q: What do you mean?

A: My step-mom threatened to sue them. I don't remember the details. They stopped paddling me after that.

Q: So she could spank you but they couldn't?

A: Yeah . . . I guess so. I never got paddled again after that, even in high school. Other kids did. But I didn't.

Q: Did you still have to wear diapers in high school?

A: Yeah. Same routine for the most part, but there were some changes by the time I was a junior.

Q: What kinds of changes?

A: Like I don't remember everything, but the anti-strip onesies came back for me when I was a sophomore for a little while.

Q: What was the cause?

A: I had an allergic reaction to something and I was really itchy, so I was scratching my lower back and accidentally unsnapped the onesie I was wearing. I took off my hoodie and the "adults" accused me of trying to remove the onesie. This teacher I had at the time said I was behaving erratically and being disruptive. So I spent the rest of the year in anti-strip onesies. Even at home. It was really stupid, but whatever.

Q: What was it like having to wear the anti-strip onesies as a sophomore?

A: These onesies were the anti-strip onesies with some kind of snaps I couldn't remove by myself. They zipped in the back at the side. While they were less of a sensory nightmare than some of the others, just imagine trying to sleep like that. It was hard.

So when you were sixteen, you probably could at least see yourself without someone else around. I couldn't. I couldn't even shower with the bathroom door closed and as soon as I got out, either my step-mom or my step brother would put me in a diaper and one of those fucking back-zip onesies. Like I couldn't even get myself off because I couldn't get my hands inside those onesies.

I looked a lot younger than I was, too. I didn't have much body hair, but it was still removed. I still don't have any body hair for the most part. Especially around my lower abdomen because that was my "diaper area" and having hair there was unhygienic or whatever.

It was also super humiliating because it was just one more rule or whatever I had that no one else my age had. Like all of the stuff most teenagers do without even thinking about it, I couldn't. I had an iPad but it had parental controls on it that limited what I could do with it. Like YouTube kids and basic games and stuff. I had a laptop but it had parental controls and screen time limits. While most 16 year old guys were either learning how to drive or had cars of their own by then, I was getting my diaper changed by a babysitter and spanked by step-mommy dearest whenever I misbehaved.

Now I kind of like being babysat and spanked. But only by Reid and only on my terms.

Q: How does that work?

A: Reid and I negotiated the terms together, I guess. We actually have it written down somewhere, and we check in on how things are going every now and then.

Q: Who came up with the terms?

A: I think Reid came up with some of them and I came up with others. But both of us had to agree before they'd apply.

Q: What are some examples of the "terms" you're talking about? Are they rules? Maybe routines, or something else?

A: Um . . . like all of the above, I guess?

__________________________________________

More to come in Part 3.

[paddedbigbro]

Once and Future Diaper Boy

(Sort of based on a true story.)

It started when I was in middle school. The back story is kind of terrible, starting in the summer between sixth and seventh grade.

I was turning thirteen next month. I was supposed to start 7th grade and I had just been diagnosed with autism and ADHD. Those were the big ones. Some anxiety disorder too.

I was a lot to handle.

I remember being punished for my "behavioral" issues all the time. I lived in the deep south. I was also diagnosed with something called "opposition defiance disorder" that's now called "pathological demand avoidance."

I had "tantrums," as my step-mom called them. Now they'd get called "meltdowns." Tight clothes, bright lights and loud noises were reliable triggers. But this was before the concept of nervous system regulation was a thing. I was always punished. Usually with a belt. Sometimes with a switch. Always with corner time after, with my pants pulled down bearing the marks of the belt or switch.

I couldn't tie my own shoes, either. Like physically I couldn't do it. Oh, I forgot apraxia. That means that something called "fine motor coordination" was very hard for me, although I've grown out of that.

I had been a bedwetter all my life. I had accidents in the daytime too because I hated going to the bathroom in public. It happened in school more than I'd like to think about.

My step-mom was convinced I needed to be in "special" classes. She even suggested a school for kids with "challenges" like mine, whatever that meant.

I started taking pills in the morning. My step-mom always gave them to me in the morning. One was for ADHD and another was for anxiety. I didn't think I had anxiety problems. I knew I probably had ADHD. But it's not like I had a choice. The pills were a doctor's idea. They made me feel like a zombie.

The pills made it harder for me to know when I needed to go to the bathroom. I wet myself twice in the first week. There was one messy accident as well. I didn't even realize it until I felt the mess in my underwear. It was so humiliating.

My younger step-brother took pills too. He was still in elementary school. One of the pills he took in the morning was like mine. But he only had one. I think it was for ADHD.

Our bedtime routine started out the same when our parents got married. We had a pill to eat a gummy that had some kind of sleep medication in it. Diapers had to be on, too. My step-mom put his diaper on first. Then she put mine on. He didn't mind. I hated it.

The diapers we wore were the same too. White and medical, then. My step-brother wasn't a regular bedwetter anymore. He told me he usually woke up dry but would just wet the diaper he slept in because he didn't want to get out of bed. I couldn't seem to grow out of it. I was almost always wet.

The routine changed when I started wearing diapers in the daytime. I hated wearing diapers during the day even more because they were always so tight. Then they'd get sweaty and itchy. Plus they crinkled and were so loud whenever I moved. I would always take them off as soon as I could. But when I did, I got spanked and forced to stand in the corner.

Eventually my step-mom got tired of spanking me and started to make me wear these anti-strip onesies that had a locking plastic clip in the back. The onesies were horrible. They were very tight, with tight sleeves and legs that couldn't be wiggled out of. The plastic clips in the back were very firm and I couldn't reach them to unlock them or take the onesie off. The zippers down the back were annoying beyond description. All of this was exactly as embarrassing as you might imagine. I fought it and my dad took my step-mom's side. I got spanked again.

When I started school in the fall, the diapers didn't go away. The onesies would stay too unless I agreed to not take the diapers off. I played along and as a concession would wear onesies that buttoned at the crotch instead. They looked like the ones babies wore. Solid colors, mostly white and gray like undershirts. They still looked like baby clothes.

I had an IEP and something else that required me to wear diapers while I was in school. The diapers were an actual requirement. Health concerns from my "accident risk" or whatever. That was the policy. And if I took the diapers off during school I'd have to wear those locking onesies every single day. I had to be changed once per day by a para with the special ed kids, too.

It was humiliating at first but I got used to it. I got out of having to do gym class. That was a perk. But I eventually stopped noticing when I had to go to the bathroom and I would just use the diaper. I basically unpotty trained myself and was functionally incontinent for pee.

I also was not allowed to stay home alone. That was something my step-mom made very clear: while I wasn't a "baby" I needed to be supervised and looked after. So in practical terms, one of my friends would "babysit" me whenever we hung out, alone or in groups. There was one boy I was friends with who even changed my diapers.

This all went on until I graduated from high school.

I took a year before college.

College was fun for me because I left home and moved in with one of the friends who "babysat" me when we were in high school. He was a year younger than I was and really leaned into the "baby" aspect of babysitting. He was also bisexual and very cute.

We had rules, though. By then I really was incontinent and I always had to wear diapers. He liked me in onesies, too. I wasn't allowed to change myself or even touch my diaper. He'd make me wear the locking onesies (which he knew I hated) if I ever tried to change myself.

I was not allowed to masturbate at all. Ever. I would get spanked if I did. Any kind of sexual stuff had to be with his permission. And we had to work around the fact that I was always wearing diapers. That meant he was on top and I was on the bottom.

Most of the time he would let me use a magic wand while he would hump the inside of my diaper, in the front or the back. My favorite was when he made me wear a chastity cage and he'd cum in the front of my diaper, while I was wet.

So that's how I became a once and future diaper boy.

[jockabsorbers]

If two's a party and three's a crowd, then what the hell is this?

[paddedbigbro]

Interview with the Diaper Boy - Part 1

I recently shared a short story based on the experience of someone I'm friends with in real life, in my post titled "Once and Future Diaper Boy."

The guy whose life inspired that story is a real person who I will refer to as "Hayden" for the purposes of this interview and future posts about his life. Hayden agreed to let me to use his story as inspiration for a series of short stories on the condition that I not reveal personally identifiable information. Although I have not shared most of what I wrote here or elsewhere yet, I probably will over time.

Hayden and I met a few years ago. We were both active in a group for kinky gay/bi guys. Over time we learned that we had more in common than sexual orientation and kinks, and both of us were very interested in stories about other people like us.

What follows below is an abridged version of some of the questions and answers that preceded our collaboration.

__________________________________________

Q: This is exciting. Thanks for agreeing to collaborate, Hayden!

A: Um . . . yeah. It's no problem . . . I haven't done anything like this before so I don't really know what to expect.

Q: What I'd like to do is ask you some questions about your life and experiences and, with your permission, use them as reference material for creative short stories.

A: Okay, yeah. That's fine. I don't know if anyone would be interested. I feel like my life isn't that interesting.

Q: I don't know what the broader appeal will be. I'm interested, though. To get started, how old are you now?

A: I'm 22.

Q: Who do you live with?

A: I live with Reid.

Q: How did you meet Reid?

A: Um . . . I don't remember when we first met. He was my step-brother's friend from elementary school at first, but we started to hang out a lot more once he was in middle school.

Q: How old is Reid?

A: He's 20.

Q: Did you ever have classes together with Reid, while you guys were in school?

A: Not in middle school. But we did when he got to high school. I was a sophomore when he was a freshman. We had an elective together that year. Then when he was a sophomore and I was a junior, we had more classes together.

Q: So you were only one year apart in school?

A: Yeah . . . I was held back when I was in middle school. When my dad and step-mom got married, I was supposed to be going into the seventh grade. We moved out of state that year. At her recommendation, I did a second year in the 6th grade.

Q: Why?

A: Um . . . I guess there's two sides of that story. There's what I was told was "best for me" and there's what I think actually happened. Which do you want?

Q: Both, if you're comfortable sharing.

A: Ok. That's fine. I just want to say though . . . I apologize in advance if I get angry because this is still something that really pissed me off.

Q: That's understandable, given what we've talked about before. Why don't you start with what your dad and your step-mom told you?

A: That was such fucking bullshit. But yeah . . . I guess I should give some context. We moved to Texas after my dad married my step-mom. She had a lot of family in Fort Worth and my dad took a new job there.

Q: You were supposed to be going into 7th grade?

A: Supposed to, yeah. My step-mom thought I would be better off doing another year in 6th grade. I had trouble doing things like tying my shoes, brushing my teeth, buttoning and unbuttoning clothes and other stuff like that. It wasn't because I didn't understand how. I just couldn't get my hands and fingers to work right. It was really frustrating. My step-mom thought I was stupid and insisted that I should be evaluated for learning disabilities.

Q: How did that go?

A: The school was ready to place me in a self-contained special ed class after the shrink my step-mom made me see. My dad got a second opinion. They said I was autistic, had gross and fine motor-skill limitations, insomnia, an anxiety disorder and ADHD. The shrink my step-mom took me to said I had something called "PDA" which means "pathological demand avoidance." My step-mom called it opposition defiant disorder.

Q: Is that why you were held back in the 6th grade?

A: According to my dad and my step-mom, my "behavior" and "maturity" were problems. So like before we moved to Texas, when I was already super over stimulated from being forced to sit still and be quiet all day, I needed to decompress after school. But my step-mom forced me to do homework, study and do chores right after I got home. Then if I had a meltdown (or "tantrum" as she called it) she would spank me in front of my step brother. Like really hard. She tried to convince my dad to put me in special ed.

Q: Where was your dad?

A: He was at work. My step-mom seemed to enjoy humiliating me. One day when I got home from school I had not used the bathroom all day. I could not get my jeans unbuttoned in time and I wet my pants. My step mom spanked me and made me wear one of my nighttime diapers for the rest of the day after that.

Q: Were accidents like that common for you?

A: They became more frequent once my dad started dating my step-mom. I think it's because my anxiety levels were a lot higher and I wasn't as functional when I was under so much stress. But I did have accidents before that, too. I always wet the bed and daytime accidents weren't uncommon. Maybe one or two per month, before I started having to wear diapers to school.

Q: Before we talk about your experience with having to wear diapers to school, why do you think your step-mom wanted you to be in special ed classes?

A: Putting me in special ed was her way of controlling me, when I flat-out refused to obey anything she said for a long time. She tried to get my dad to put me on antipsychotics. He didn't, but she tried. She always framed it as "concern" for "my best interest." My step-mom is one of the most manipulative and narcissistic people I have ever known. She tried to gaslight me so hard when she first started dating my dad. As a kid I didn't know what her game was. But now I can see it for exactly what it is. Humiliating me was her way of "balancing" the scales of her fucked up sense of justice. That's what it was about.

Q: What about your step-brother and younger brother?

A: She liked humiliating them too. I remember watching her face when she spanked my step-brother one time. We had moved to Texas by then and he was playing xbox after he was supposed to be in bed. She got this fucked up smirk on her face when he started crying. But I was her primary target.

Q: She was responsible for whatever arrangement resulted in you having to wear diapers to school, right?

A: Yeah. That was all her. She made my dad think it was his idea. But it was actually all her. What happened is that after we moved to Texas, I had a ton of assessments and she always made sure I was super stressed out and overwhelmed before. So my ability to function was already compromised, beforehand.

Q: Is that how you got diagnosed with incontinence?

A: I actually did have interoception issues which made it hard for me to know when I needed to go to the bathroom and I avoided going to the bathroom at school. The apraxia didn't help. So I got diagnosed with mixed incontinence. It got worse once I was put on ADHD and anxiety medication.

Q: Do you remember what meds you were on?

A: No. I think ritalin was what I took for ADHD. That actually helped me pay attention in class and weirdly it dulled a lot of my sensory issues with lights and clothes. I don't resent that at all. I don't take it anymore but I really don't think I could have functioned in school without it. It cut the frequency of my meltdowns too. The anxiety meds . . . I don't remember what they were. I just remember feeling like a zombie when I took them.

Q: So the diapers in the daytime came before the meds?

A: Yeah.

Q: What was it like having to wear diapers in the daytime?

A: It started the summer I was held back in the 6th grade after we moved to Fort Worth. You know what Texas is like in the summer. It's like being inside an air fryer. Wearing diapers in that heat was really miserable. But it's not like I had a choice.

Q: You didn't have a choice?

A: No. I tried to take them off, but my step-mom would spank me every time. She also forced me to wear anti-strip onesies that I literally could not get out of. They zipped in the back and she used a plastic zip-tie that basically locked the zipper in place, until it was cut off with wire cutters. After I was diagnosed with incontinence the school required me to wear diapers. I had to show up in diapers and leave in diapers.

Q: That seems pretty extreme.

A: Bro you have no idea. I was thirteen and I couldn't even go to the bathroom on my own if I wanted to. I cut one of the onesies off with a kitchen knife because the zipper was excruciating, but I only did that once.

Q: What happened?

A: My step-mom said she would have my dad put me back on an anti-psychotic medication if I ever did that again. She framed it like I was a danger to myself and my step brothers. I was not. I was just trying to get some relief from that zipper. Plus I needed a diaper change and she would not change me until she was done working. After that she started letting my step-brother change me, which was an entirely new level of humiliation. I will say this, though. She got different onesies after that. The new onesies had plastic locking clips at the back. The zippers were less annoying too.

Q: Wow.

A: Yeah it was crazy.

Q: What happened when your step-mom took you to your IEP/504 meeting before school started back in the fall?

A: Ok . . . yeah. So by then it had been determined that I would repeat the 6th grade. Even though my step-mom had my IQ tested with a whole bunch of other stuff and I was in the top 97th percentile (higher than hers, as I later found out), my grades were really bad. Like, I failed multiple subjects and I had a lot of absences. Or so I was told.

Anyway, diapers were a requirement for school. Both middle school and high school. The schools had a policy that any student that came to school wearing a diaper had to be checked and, if necessary, changed, every two hours unless that would be disruptive to classroom instruction.

The school thought I needed to be toilet trained but my step-mom basically shot that down. So the things the school's representative suggested just were not going to work. Things like "student will independently adjust clothing to facilitate bathroom use" sort of goals didn't make sense because I had to wear those anti-strip onesies at first. Instead, my objectives were mostly focused on compliance. I only remember a few of the main ones:

"By the end of 6th grade, Hayden will demonstrate the ability to walk to the special ed classroom independently and without external prompting at designated times throughout the school day."

"By the end of 6th grade, Hayden will demonstrate compliance with approved diapering and changing procedures."

Most of the goals were easy to meet because my step-mom convinced them I was totally incontinent and would strip of my diaper whenever I had the chance. Once I proved that I could show up and get checked and changed on schedule, I was able to stop wearing the anti-strip onesies at school.

Q: What was the diapering and changing procedure?

A: I had to go to the special ed room and wait for a para to take me to the bathroom. That's where the changing area was. I usually wore a t-shirt and hoodie, with jeans or shorts depending on the weather. The para would tell me to take off my clothes. Once I did that, she would come back in and unzip the onesie. By then I'm standing in my socks or sandals and a (usually very wet) diaper.

I'd sit on this changing table thing and lay down. It looked like one of the exam tables in a doctor's office. It was lined with a large piece of paper on top of what looked like a disposable bed pad. Then, she put a strap over my waist so I didn't roll off. At first, she put the straps on my wrists in case I didn't cooperate. But once she knew I wouldn't cause trouble she stopped securing my wrists.

Then she would raise the table up with a foot control. Once the table was at the height the para wanted, she un-taped the diaper I was wearing. She always started with the upper-right tab on the diaper, then the upper-left, the lower-right and finally the lower-left. After the diaper was untaped she rolled it up and threw it in the diaper genie that was beside the table. She wiped everything down and once I was clean she prompted me to raise my lower half up so she could slide a new diaper underneath. Then, she'd raise the front of it up over my diaper area. She always changed gloves at this point for some reason.

Next, she'd tape the new diaper on and lower the table. I had to step back in the back-zip onesie one foot at a time. Once it was on I would turn around and she would zip it back up. Then I put my pants, shirt and hoodie back on.

Later in the year when I stopped having to wear the back-zip onesies, changes got easier. The other onesies had snaps at the crotch. So, I'd get on the table and she'd raise it up. Then she'd unsnap the crotch and slide it up, untape the old diaper and put a new one on. She re-snapped the snaps and then lower the table so I could get dressed after that.

Q: How did it feel to have your diaper checked and changed in that kind of setting?

A: Humiliating at first. I got used to it, I guess. It also was an excuse to get out of class so that was nice. Sometimes I'd just hang out in the special ed room instead of going back to class. The kids who were there were actually really nice and the environment was welcoming. I wasn't the only kid in diapers. But most of the other kids who had to wear diapers in school were in self-contained classes.

Q: Did the school provide diapers?

A: They did once, when I ran out of the diapers I usually wore. But usually I wore the ones my step-mom had sent to the school. I don't know how that process worked. Only that my dad's insurance through his work paid for it and a lot of other stuff.

Q: Did you have special ed classes?

A: No. My step-mom always threatened that as if it was something she had control over, but I was never put in a self-contained class. I was just required to show up to the special ed room to get my diapers checked and changed.

Q: Did you experience ABA therapy?

A: Yes and I don't want to talk about that. It was traumatic and I don't like thinking about it.

Q: How long were you in diapers?

A: I never got out of them. I'm literally wearing one now and it's the middle of the day.

Q: What about after high school?

A: I never actually planned to go to college, but once Reid graduated he convinced me to go to college with him. I really like my college classes and I'm glad I went.

Q: And you live with Reid now?

A: He's kind of like my live-in babysitter boyfriend.

__________________________________________

More to come in Part 2. I'll share that eventually.

[okdiaperboy]

Master Mark (Gay ABDL & Humiliation)

***** Warning this is an unfinished story and really only a draft ***************** Enjoy!

                                                 Master Mark

  The countdown had begun. Just another twenty minutes before I could go home. It had been quite the eclectic day. I had put in a few loan applications, processed multiple wires, and somehow had time to call the love of my life, my boyfriend Mark. Overall it wasn’t bad for a Friday. I was looking forward to a nice bottle of wine and a relaxing weekend.

“Hey John, should I bring anything to your barbeque on Sunday?”

Nasim asked.

“Yeah, maybe a million in cash.”

  I chuckled, I knew it was a stupid joke the moment it came out, but working in a bank meant sometimes you could make the same joke a million times.  I walked back to my desk ready to finish out the rest of my day in peace.

  Just five minutes before we closed a younger man, maybe mid-twenties, pleasantly good looking came in. I watched as he approached the teller line. I was a bit like a lion stalking a gazelle. The man was dressed in light denim jeans and a simple v-neck with some cheesy band logo on it. Short brown hair complimented his fair complexion, and his silver necklace.

  I watched as he began speaking with Brittany, a younger teller who was working to pay for her college. I couldn’t make out the words but I watched as she directed him to take a seat in our waiting area. “Fuck” I thought to myself. A few seconds later my phone rings that all too familiar bing bing, meaning I was being called from an internal line.

“Yeah this is John”

I said in an almost rushed tone.

“Hey John, the guy’s name is Cameron it should be a quick one, he is just wanting to open a checking account.”

“Fuck me, doesn’t he know we close in three minutes.”

“Yeah, but you know how it goes.”

“Alright thanks, I’ll go fetch him.”

  I got up from my desk and began walking over. I enjoyed hearing the distinct clap my shoes made against the marble floors. It went well with the professional image of a standard sleek black suit and tie.

  Cameron was on his phone while he was waiting.

“Hello you must be Cameron, My name is John. I understand you need to open an account?”

“Yeah, hi. I just want to open something free. I just moved out here from Colorado.”

“Absolutely, well let’s head back over to my desk and see what we can open.”

  As I was leading him back to my desk I realized that I needed to pee. Hopefully this really is quick I thought to myself.

               “Here have a seat, so what brought you out to Oklahoma?”

   I asked really not interested, but using the time to get my computer ready.

               “The usual, I guess. Got a new job down the road and just finished moving in.”

“That’s great, well we can get you into our minimal checking account. The monthly service fee is waived with either a $2500 monthly balance, or two direct deposits of $500 each per month.”

               “That sounds good”

  He said.

  As I was working on getting his income, and his account started I began to feel that all too familiar twitch in my bladder. I really needed to use the restroom, but I couldn’t simply get up and leave. The pressure was building and I needed to release. I thought to myself about letting out a little, but I knew if I did the floodgates would open.

  After about ten minutes I was getting ready to finish, I had Cameron sign on the electronic signature pad on my desk, gave him the proper papers, and directed him back to the teller line to make his deposit. I immediately made a dash to the restrooms, as I entered I began unzipping my fly.

“Oh shit”

  I thought to myself as I instinctively began to let go into my already piss stained white briefs. I managed to direct myself to the toilet only wetting the front of my briefs slightly and thankfully preventing a truly humiliating experience. Thankfully the black pants I had worn today did a good job disguising the shame.

  By the time I had come out Cameron had already left. I talked briefly with a few colleagues that were coming to the barbeque on Sunday as I was locking up my desk, and then made for the back exit. I got in my car, a modest Buick Lacrosse and sat for a few minutes.  I pushed the button on my steering wheel and said,

               “Call Mark”

  The phone began ringing as I was pulling out. I got onto the main road and I heard Marks Voicemail.

“Hey, you’ve reached Mark please leave a message after the beep.”

“Hey babe, I am leaving now, I should be home in about ten minutes.”

  Mark worked from home a few days a week, so I was unsure why he wouldn’t be answering his phone. On the short dive back to my condo I could smell the familiar scent of piss. Not too strong but noticeable. Damnit why does Mark keep buying me these tighty-whities? I’m not a little boy anymore.

  I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. I was approaching my complex. My first home, I enjoyed the comforts a small downtown condo provided, and I was able to get it at a great deal.  It wasn’t amazing, but it was home. It was a relatively small and modern complex. There were only twelve buildings each with four units and a great community pool.

  I pulled up to building seven, “Home sweet home” I thought to myself I noticed Mark’s Ford Fusion was in the parking spot where he normally parked, hmm I thought to myself.

  I began walking upstairs to my unit. I got to the simple white door and put in my keys, I walked in to the cool air. The condo itself was a bit of a work in progress. Since moving in I had redone the kitchen and living room. The floors were a dark stained wood, while the majority of the rest of the condo were lighter colors. A mix of grays and crèmes. I was proud of the work I had done to convert the unit into a more modern living space.

  I walked to my closet taking my jacket off. “Mark” I called out. No reply.

  I walked over to my kitchen place my keys and phone in a little platter on my bar, “Mark” I said again, this time a bit louder. Yet still I wasn’t getting a reply. I knew he was home, I had seen his car.

  I began walking back to our master suite. I noticed the door was open slightly and the lights were on. “Mark” I yelled out again, this time obviously a bit frustrated that he wasn’t responding.  I pushed open the door and saw Mark standing there. Tall about six feet, slender build, he wasn’t too athletic, not was he overweight. His light skin and dark brown hair reminded me of Cameron. He was dressed in some simple gym shorts and a shirt I had bought him on vacation a few years ago.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  I asked in an almost annoyed tone.

“We need to talk John”

  It was then that I noticed a few pairs of my underwear were lying out on my bed on top of the comforter. It was clear that I had more than a few accidents; there were multiple pairs with clearly defined piss stains in the front and one pair with a small brown stain.

  I couldn’t look at him in the eyes, I felt my cheeks get warm; I looked down and started to speak.

               “I just sometimes…”

               “You know John, I’ve been doing laundry the last few weeks and this has been a reoccurring thing.”

               “I’m getting really tired of having to constantly clean these filthy stains, come here.”

  I had never heard Mark like this; his voice was commanding, and assertive. I walked over to the corner of the bed where he was standing. I still couldn’t look him in the eyes.

               “Snffff, and what’s THAT smell?”

  I’m sorry it just happened, I had a client and I couldn’t step away in time.

  Mark suddenly reached to my waist, quickly pulling away my belt and unbuttoning my pants. The next thing I knew my pants were around my ankles, with my stained briefs on full display, still damp and musky from my accident.

               “Look at you, your pathetic; you can’t even stay dry one day, let alone a week.”

  My eyes felt heavy, I felt him begin to pull down my underwear, and He stopped just above my knees. I watched as he sat on the corner of the bed. I felt so exposed. I had known him for years and suddenly being confronted like this made me feel as if I was in front of a stranger.

  I was suddenly being forced over his knee; before I knew it I felt the sharp pain.

“SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.”

  I couldn’t react for the first few seconds. It hadn’t registered to me what was happening at that point. “SMACK SMACK SMACK” I began to wiggle and worm trying to escape his grasp. “SMACK SMACK SMACK”  

               “Please stop, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry!”

  I pleaded to no avail.

“It’s about time you learned a lesson boy, if you want to act like a child then I’m going to treat you like a child.”

  The spanking continued for several minutes, picking up intensity, with each hand coming down a new mark was added to my ass. I eventually gave up trying to wiggle out of Mark’s grasp. As embarrassing a it was, I could feel myself becoming aroused, I had never seen this domineering side of Mark.

  As the spanking began to slow down, and eventually I couldn’t help but to begin instinctively begin thrusting my cock into Mark’s legs.

               “You are so pathetic”

  Mark said in a matter of fact tone.

               “Get on the bed lie face down and do NOT look up!”

  I knew better than to disobey so I did exactly as I was told.

  I heard mark get up and go to our closet, I heard him rustling with a box, and begin to come back. I felt him sit on the bed next to me, my ass was still burning from the spanking, and I was begging for relief. I heard Mark open the cap to a bottle, I was curious but knew better than to look.

  I suddenly felt a pleasant coolness on my burning ass. I felt his hands begin to rub the lotion in, I was still rock hard, and instinctively began to hump the bed. “SMACK” I cried out in pain. Mark flipped me over so I was now on my back.

  I realized that what he was rubbing in was baby lotion, the smell began to fill up my nostrils, it was pleasant, but I was confused. I remained silent, as he began to put more lotion on his hand and began rubbing it into my cock.

  I was already on the verge, and he knew this, he was deliberate and took his time. He paused when he sense I was getting too close.

  Next I saw him reach to something plastic and white; as he began to unfold it I realized it was a diaper!

               “Wait, stop I can’t wear a diaper, I’m not a baby!”

               “Well your underwear begs to differ, do adults piss their pants? “

               “No, but…”

               “Exactly, and what do babies wear that piss their pants?”

               “Diapers, but I’m not a baby!”

“Enough, It’s not up for debate, if you can’t keep your underwear clean like a big boy, then you don’t deserve to be treated like one.”

  He grabbed my ankles and placed the diaper under me, it was pleasantly soft, but a million questions began to run through my mind. Why was he doing this to me? Where did he get diapers? And most importantly, why was I enjoying this so much?

  Mark made sure the diapers position was correct than grabbed a bottle of baby powder from the ground. I lifted my ankles again and began to sprinkle the powder on my ass. It too was pleasantly soothing after the spanking I had just received. Holding my ankles with one hand he took the other hand and began to rub the powder in.

  After rubbing the powder in he let my legs down and began to sprinkle powder on my crotch. He took his time rubbing the powder in, paying special attention to my cock. Finally he pulled the front of the diaper up through my legs. I noticed that the front of the diaper had a large cartoon animal peeking above the top. I knew there was no point in arguing, and I was already high on lust.

  Mark began tapping the diaper on, again, taking his time, very diabolical in his positioning. After I was tapped in my first diaper in nearly twenty years he got up. He went into our bathroom and I heard him wash his hands. He came back and picked me up by the shoulders and placed me on the ground standing up. He remained silent but I could tell he was admiring his work. I didn’t know what to say as I was now standing in front of my boyfriend wearing my shirt, tie and diaper.

  He came closer to me and began to take off my tie, and shirt. Soon I was standing there in nothing but a giant diaper with an animal on the front. I looked in the mirror and had to admit that I looked quite cute. I let out a little grin. I could see the bulge my cock imprinted in the soft plastic diaper.  I was confused but incredibly aroused.

               “You look hungry boy.”

 Mark said with a devilish grin on his face.

  He began pulling off his belt and unzipping his pants. Despite the humiliation of being in front of my boyfriend wearing nothing but a printed diaper, I was aroused beyond belief. I lost all human control, I was instead an animal at this point, and this was my meal in front of me. I wanted that thick cock. My mouth was salivating; my cock was at full staff. I instinctively dropped to my knees.

  He pulled his cock out of his boxer shorts.

               “This is what a real man’s cock looks like, free and thick not locked up in a little baby diaper”

  I ignored his attempt to humiliate me further, I didn’t care. I was so horny I didn’t care. I took a moment to admire his cock. I had seen his manhood plenty of times, but something about today made his cock seem like it was the best thing I had ever seen. A nice plump head dripping with precum followed by a modest seven inch thick staff. I remember the first night he pulled it out, I wondered if I was even going to be able to take it all.

  I started by licking his shaft from the base up towards the head. I took my time, making sure to take in his musk. I then moved my tongue under his head before wrapping my lips around the head of his plump cock. I began to work his cock like a horny college frat boy.

               “Fuck that feels good. Aren’t you a good boy today?”

  I looked up at him with my eyes, cock in mouth his eyes were closed and his smile stretched across his five o clock shadow.

               “Suck a real man’s cock!”

  He yelled loud enough I’m sure the neighbors heard.

  Mark lasted only a few more minutes. I guess this was as exciting for him as it was for me.  Afterwards he sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him.

               “Come here, we need to talk.”

  I approached cautiously, but without hesitation.

I sat next to him and looked down and the bulk between my legs, I was still hard as a rock, it was so new and embarrassing yet thrilling. I had never seen this side of Mark before.

               “There are going to be a few rules around here now. At least until I feel you’ve learned your lesson”

1.       You are to remain in your diapers at all times. Only I am allowed change your diaper or remove it.

2.       You will obey me at all times, without hesitation and without whining.

3.       When we are here your diaper is to be on full display. No pants or covering up.

4.       You will please me, and if I determine you did a good enough job then I MAY return the favor.

5.       Lastly, if you fail to follow these rules you will be punished.

  I started to protest, but Mark leaned down and grabbed my bulging diaper.

************* I have an idea of what I want to change and how I want to finish this short ust havent had the time

[theliondaddy]

This sure is a very nice start! I have the feeling the beginning could be shortened a little, though.

[paddedbigbro]

What was it like wearing 24/7 at a young age

The "Once and Future Diaper Boy" story was not inspired by my own experience, but someone I know. I wrote it from his perspective.

Presumably, that's why you're asking. I'm clarifying because I don't want to conflate my own experience with the experience of the guy whose life was my inspiration.

His relationship with diapers was complicated. There are things he liked. They were always a source of relief because he struggled with incontinence and interoception. So, that was less demand on already constrained executive functioning. In moments where he was overwhelmed, wearing diapers meant that he wouldn't have an unpredictable moment of embarrassment. That was predictability and stability in terms of his level of exposure and being "seen" or perceived in any number of ways by others. Managing that sort of "exposure" risk from an accident really helped reduce his anxiety.

Diapers also meant predictable sensory inputs. For example, private bathrooms did not exist when he was in school. That meant if he had to use a toilet, he would have to endure the hand dryers, the lights, the (offensive) smells, the water temperatures and everything else. That, for him, was a sensory nightmare. It's why he withheld. Although he didn't have the words to explain it at the time, it's called "sensory avoidant" behavior. I don't think he's ever used a urinal in his life, btw.

Wearing diapers would, later, become a source of sexual arousal once he was about 11 to 12 years old. That was incredibly distressing for him because it was a change in his body that he had no idea how to make sense of. Puberty was even more psychologically traumatic. At that point, diapers were something like the balance between, on the one hand, adapting the psychological safety of sensory familiarity from an antecedent state (pre-adolescence); with, on the other hand, the novelty of all of the sensations and experiences of the his body and sexuality (in adolescence).

There were a lot of things he didn't like, too. Once he understood that diapers were a thing that "babies" used, he started to experience having to wear them as an intrusion on his autonomy. He was made to wear diapers against his will, even before he had to wear them 24/7. That was hugely infantilizing, made worse when it was yet another milestone he didn't hit but others (his friends, classmates and siblings) did, who were often younger than he was.

Even though he is very bright (higher IQ than his step-brother, for example), both of his parents put the younger step brother "in charge" of him and their younger brother. And rather than being treated like the big brother he was, he had rules that neither his step brother nor younger brother would have to adhere to. For example, neither of them had to wear diapers. And neither of them had to wear anti-strip onesies from time to time. He likes the onesies now, btw.

[diaperedlittleme]

You’ve mentioned that you have started bedwetting and that you used hypnosis. Which hypnosis files did you use and what is your schedule for listening to them?

What I used to jumpstart my bedwetting process is by using the HypnoCats audio files and it is recommended for the bedwetting files to be listened to before/at bedtime and for a set amount of consecutive days during the first listens 😌😴😵‍💫

[itsmikegild28]

https://justfor.fans/mikegild

Free, Uncensored Photos/Videos Plus Premium Content. Watch HD videos and photos at JustFor.Fans. Login for free and interact with your favor

[247-diaperboy]

Nicky's tale of regression

“Oh come on!” I said loudly walking into the kitchen to see a package of Tranquility ATN’s on the kitchen table. “You cannot be for real!”

“Oh I am!” Jacob said walking into the room from the other side of our apartment. It had been mine for a while but he had recently taken the plunge and moved in with me. He continued, “Look it was fine if it was still just once in a ‘great while’”, he said air quoting, “but your bedwetting has increased. The other night you hadn’t even had a touch of alcohol and I woke up wet. I am not doing that anymore. It is a diaper every night, or I move back out.

I could feel my face getting tingly and agitated. I wasn’t sure what to say. Although we had enough of this conversation for me to know he was feeling frustrated by the situation, I didn’t think we were here. Hell, he had never even said the words ‘bedwetting’ or ‘diaper’ before. I was so knocked out of my element.

Unfortunately, to make matters worse, I had in fact had a drink with friends after work. Maybe this was his plan? Was he just waiting for a night after a few drinks so I couldn’t argue my way out of it?

In a little over a month since Jacob had moved in I’d had three accidents, two after drinks with friends. He put on a waterproof but subtle mattress cover on my mattress when he moved in. I didn’t even know it was there until after my first accident. I couldn’t really begrudge him his frustrations either. It sucked for both of us.

But here I was and all I really wanted to do was run, from this apartment that was mine before he moved in. Feeling my face flush further, I took a deep breath.

“Fine” I paused “I have to take a piss and then I am headed to bed, so I will do this thing, for you tonight.”

“Every night!” He interjected.

“Every. Night?” I said with an edge, I was a little buzzed after all and it was hard enough to not want to argue this right now.

“Yep!” Jacob said definitively.

“That seems excessive. That seems like a waste!” I nearly yelled.

“If this were like a twice a year event for you still, I would not be asking this of you, but over the last year it has increased a lot! If I am going to live with you, I can’t be waking up in your piss in the mornings!” His voice was elevated but still holding back.

“So this is it, these things every night now?”

“You go three months without using one and we’ll talk.” He blurted out, as if just trying to end the conversation. He stared at me while I contemplated the deal. I was feeling so ashamed. Neither of us wanted this situation, but it wouldn’t be forever, and I really liked him. We had been together just over three years, and I didn’t want to throw that away over a stupid wet bed.

I picked up the package, and looked him in the eye. “Okay, I will end this soon, three months, no problem!” I started walking out of the room, feeling annoyed but confident I could fix this thing.

“Good, because it’s not my dream to have my 27 year old boyfriend in diapers.” he said seemingly unaware of the razorblades on his tongue. Instantly my confidence shrank. Would I be able to go three months?

I went quietly to the bathroom, tossing the package onto the bed through the open bedroom door. I stripped, pissed, showered and cleaned my teeth. Although my body was on autodrive my mind raced with a range of emotions caused by this new situation, mostly ones that made me feel terrible.

Naked, I exited the bathroom and turned to see the item sitting on my bed. Time slowed as the gravity of the situation mounted. It seemed to approach forever as I walked over to it. My hands picked it up and the packaging was slick, and its contents gave in to my grip. I pulled it open, but with too much force and several of them popped out and onto the floor. They were these weird misshapen, shiny, white bricks, with some yellow writing and lines on them. I picked one up, and the plastic crinkled in my hand. Opening it up was thunderous enough to make me look around. It made me happy that Jacob was giving me my space.

I fiddled around with it for a while, unsure exactly what to do, and eventually I went back to the package where I found the instructions. So there I was leaning against the wall trying to get this thing on. It wasn’t as easy or as intuitive as I thought it would be. I taped it on as best I could. I tried to tighten the lower right tape, but I then made a small tear in the plastic shell. But the second tape help up fine. I examined it. It was definitely uneven and there was that small hole, but I figured it would be fine.

I grabbed the package and the spilled contents on the floor and stuffed them under my side of the bed. Each movement was utter humiliation. So I grabbed a pair of Boxer briefs and pulled them over top of it and then pulled out a fresh t-shirt to sleep in.

“Okay Jacob I am off to bed!” I hollered to the other side of the apartment. As I started to get under the covers.

“You get yourself all set up already?” He said as I heard him begin to approach.

“Yep!” I said as he grew near.

“Well let me take a look.” He said entering our room.

“You’re kidding right?”

“No, I want to make sure it’s on right, besides I am your partner you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I groaned as I got up. Each action calling out crinkles for Jacobs ears. “There, see it’s on!”

“Okay, can you pull down the underwear while I take a look?” he said earnestly. This time I just pulled down my underwear without a reply. He took a step forward and crouched down, and really looked, then continued, “I’m sorry dear, but this won’t do, one leg is completely loose and the other has a hole near it.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“Do you want me to help?”

“Not really… but… I guess, whatever, let’s just get this over with,” I said.

I grabbed one of the fallen diapers from under my side of the bed and went back against the wall.

“What are you doing?” Jacob asked, curling his brow.

“What the instructions said.” I say back

“Well shouldn’t you lay down?”

“No they said when doing this for yourself you need to lean against a wall.

Jacob, went to my side of the bed and peeked underneath, where he then grabbed the package. As he lifted it up another one fell out, but he didn’t react to it, as he began looking over the directions.

“Ah yeah, well if I am helping it says you should lay down.” He stated, then looked at me.

“Well we’re not doing it that way!” I said curtly.

“Okay!” He put the package down, after looking another second. By this time I had removed the one from my first attempt, and thrown it to the ground. As I opened up the second one, Jacob approached, and said, “Okay now pin it up behind you.”

“I know! “ I said, sounding petulant, as I did what he had instructed. He just continued on.

“Now pull up the back and make sure it is even, I don’t think you did that before.”

This time I did as he said, with only a roll of the eyes, and he kept instructing as I just did what he said to do. “Now pull the front up, and pull the front sides back on both sides. It’s still a little uneven looking, so adjust it, yep, like that! Then pull it back up. Then start with the bottom tape on one side then alternate to the other. Good. Then the top ones. Okay great!” He came in again and examined my padded crotch. “This diaper looks much better!”

I looked especially red with the shining white of the new underwear I was being forced to wear. I hurriedly pulled my boxerbriefs back on over it, and rushed to bed. Jacob, taking his time, picked up the torn one, and grabbed a few things. Then he quietly exited, and said, “G’nite sweetheart, I’ll see you in the morning in a nice dry bed!” his words finished as the door clicked shut.

I honestly laid there for a long time processing what had happened, but ultimately couldn’t come up with a better solution. It didn’t matter I would get a handle on this issue and it would be over in no time. I was confident, but not confident enough to get a good night's sleep. I did wake up in the night to pee and went to the bathroom. I just slipped the thing down and pulled it back up when I was done. Made it that first night, no issues.

However I would never make it three full months dry, every night, ever again. I think it ironic now, how mature I thought I was wearing a diaper that first night, given my situation, and maybe it was at the time. Now though, I know that first diaper was the first turn down a long path of youthful regressions that would eventually consume me.

[bunsdaycare]

When you agreed to be her baby you didn’t expect you’d be treated like an actual toddler, you signed up for a girlfriend not a mom but you find yourself falling deeper into her games as you forget what it’s like to be a functioning adult.

The diapers were okay at first but then came the things like no screen time because babies don’t need smartphones, they need to play, and she gets toys to fill the time you have. Your internet is monitored by her and you get the same treatment all growing babies need.

Tummy time, locking mittens to help you crawl, your alcohol is replaced with juice and milk, you forget what it’s like to watch adult shows, and you definitely know adult time is not for you because babies don’t get that. All you get is a kiss here and there and if you’re lucky, you get time with the buzzy wand but that’s okay, being a baby is where you’d rather be, no responsibilities only the time you spend with her fills your thoughts as she molds you into the best baby you could be.

[paddedbigbro]

Once and Future Diaper Boy

(Sort of based on a true story.)

It started when I was in middle school. The back story is kind of terrible, starting in the summer between sixth and seventh grade.

I was turning thirteen next month. I was supposed to start 7th grade and I had just been diagnosed with autism and ADHD. Those were the big ones. Some anxiety disorder too.

I was a lot to handle.

I remember being punished for my "behavioral" issues all the time. I lived in the deep south. I was also diagnosed with something called "opposition defiance disorder" that's now called "pathological demand avoidance."

I had "tantrums," as my step-mom called them. Now they'd get called "meltdowns." Tight clothes, bright lights and loud noises were reliable triggers. But this was before the concept of nervous system regulation was a thing. I was always punished. Usually with a belt. Sometimes with a switch. Always with corner time after, with my pants pulled down bearing the marks of the belt or switch.

I couldn't tie my own shoes, either. Like physically I couldn't do it. Oh, I forgot apraxia. That means that something called "fine motor coordination" was very hard for me, although I've grown out of that.

I had been a bedwetter all my life. I had accidents in the daytime too because I hated going to the bathroom in public. It happened in school more than I'd like to think about.

My step-mom was convinced I needed to be in "special" classes. She even suggested a school for kids with "challenges" like mine, whatever that meant.

I started taking pills in the morning. My step-mom always gave them to me in the morning. One was for ADHD and another was for anxiety. I didn't think I had anxiety problems. I knew I probably had ADHD. But it's not like I had a choice. The pills were a doctor's idea. They made me feel like a zombie.

The pills made it harder for me to know when I needed to go to the bathroom. I wet myself twice in the first week. There was one messy accident as well. I didn't even realize it until I felt the mess in my underwear. It was so humiliating.

My younger step-brother took pills too. He was still in elementary school. One of the pills he took in the morning was like mine. But he only had one. I think it was for ADHD.

Our bedtime routine started out the same when our parents got married. We had a pill to eat a gummy that had some kind of sleep medication in it. Diapers had to be on, too. My step-mom put his diaper on first. Then she put mine on. He didn't mind. I hated it.

The diapers we wore were the same too. White and medical, then. My step-brother wasn't a regular bedwetter anymore. He told me he usually woke up dry but would just wet the diaper he slept in because he didn't want to get out of bed. I couldn't seem to grow out of it. I was almost always wet.

The routine changed when I started wearing diapers in the daytime. I hated wearing diapers during the day even more because they were always so tight. Then they'd get sweaty and itchy. Plus they crinkled and were so loud whenever I moved. I would always take them off as soon as I could. But when I did, I got spanked and forced to stand in the corner.

Eventually my step-mom got tired of spanking me and started to make me wear these anti-strip onesies that had a locking plastic clip in the back. The onesies were horrible. They were very tight, with tight sleeves and legs that couldn't be wiggled out of. The plastic clips in the back were very firm and I couldn't reach them to unlock them or take the onesie off. The zippers down the back were annoying beyond description. All of this was exactly as embarrassing as you might imagine. I fought it and my dad took my step-mom's side. I got spanked again.

When I started school in the fall, the diapers didn't go away. The onesies would stay too unless I agreed to not take the diapers off. I played along and as a concession would wear onesies that buttoned at the crotch instead. They looked like the ones babies wore. Solid colors, mostly white and gray like undershirts. They still looked like baby clothes.

I had an IEP and something else that required me to wear diapers while I was in school. The diapers were an actual requirement. Health concerns from my "accident risk" or whatever. That was the policy. And if I took the diapers off during school I'd have to wear those locking onesies every single day. I had to be changed once per day by a para with the special ed kids, too.

It was humiliating at first but I got used to it. I got out of having to do gym class. That was a perk. But I eventually stopped noticing when I had to go to the bathroom and I would just use the diaper. I basically unpotty trained myself and was functionally incontinent for pee.

I also was not allowed to stay home alone. That was something my step-mom made very clear: while I wasn't a "baby" I needed to be supervised and looked after. So in practical terms, one of my friends would "babysit" me whenever we hung out, alone or in groups. There was one boy I was friends with who even changed my diapers.

This all went on until I graduated from high school.

I took a year before college.

College was fun for me because I left home and moved in with one of the friends who "babysat" me when we were in high school. He was a year younger than I was and really leaned into the "baby" aspect of babysitting. He was also bisexual and very cute.

We had rules, though. By then I really was incontinent and I always had to wear diapers. He liked me in onesies, too. I wasn't allowed to change myself or even touch my diaper. He'd make me wear the locking onesies (which he knew I hated) if I ever tried to change myself.

I was not allowed to masturbate at all. Ever. I would get spanked if I did. Any kind of sexual stuff had to be with his permission. And we had to work around the fact that I was always wearing diapers. That meant he was on top and I was on the bottom.

Most of the time he would let me use a magic wand while he would hump the inside of my diaper, in the front or the back. My favorite was when he made me wear a chastity cage and he'd cum in the front of my diaper, while I was wet.

So that's how I became a once and future diaper boy.