ATTENTION ANYONE WHO WEARS DIAPERS‼️ (Diaper fluffing tutorial)
It seems like a lot of people in the abdl community don’t know about diaper fluffing, so I thought I’d make a quick tutorial! If you’re not sure what diaper fluffing is, it’s basically breaking up the fibers in your diaper to let air in, and make them thicker and more comfortable! Diapers are packed SUUUPER tight to make shipping cheaper, so your diapers won’t come out of the package as fluffy as they should be! Here’s how you do it
Step 1: Unfold your diaper all the way (pretty easy)
Step 2: Fold your diaper in half hotdog style, then gently pull your hands in opposite directions up and down the fold you made. You should feel the material giving a little as you do this. BE CAREFUL AND DON’T RIP THE DIAPER
Step 3: Unfold your diaper, and do the same thing to the inside, gently pulling your hands apart
Step 4: Voilà! Fluffed and ready to go!
Here’s a picture of the diaper I fluffed next to one right out of the package
The difference is really amazing! Hope this helps you guys! Stay dry 💖
Edit: Send me a message if you had a problem or something. I tried to make the directions as clear as possible but I’m always here to help!
The steering wheel is slick under your palms, the late afternoon sun glinting off the windshield as you pull into the driveway. The house is exactly as it looked in the photos cozy, welcoming, with a swing set in the backyard and a pastel-colored door that seems to whisper, This is where you’re supposed to be. But your stomach is a knot of nerves. You’ve talked to her for months, shared your fears, your desires, the way your little side aches to be let out, to be seen. And now, here you are. David, 28, a man who pays bills and attends meetings and pretends he doesn’t spend his evenings curled up with a stuffed animal, is about to walk into a world where none of that matters.
You kill the engine and sit for a moment, gripping the wheel like it’s the only thing keeping you from bolting. What if it’s not what you thought? What if she laughs? What if you’re not little enough? The doubts swirl, but beneath them, there’s a flicker of something warmer, something that feels like coming home. You take a deep breath, grab your bag from the passenger seat, and step out.
The door opens before you can knock.
She stands there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that makes your knees weak. She’s even prettier in person, soft curves, a knowing glint in her eyes, and a voice that wraps around you like a blanket. “Took you long enough, baby boy,” she teases, arms crossed. “I was starting to think you’d chickened out.”
You swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of how tall you are, how big you feel in your jeans and t-shirt. “N-no, Mommy. Just… traffic.”
She laughs, low and warm, and steps forward to take your bag. “Uh-huh. Traffic made your hands shake?” She nods at your white-knuckled grip on the strap. “Or is it just the thought of what’s waiting for you inside?”
Your face burns. You want to argue, to play it cool, but the way she’s looking at you, like she already knows every secret you’ve ever had, makes the words die in your throat.
She doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she reaches out and takes your hand, her fingers small and warm against yours. “Come on, David. Let’s get you settled.”
The contact sends a jolt through you. It’s so simple, so natural, like she’s done this a hundred times before. And maybe she has. But not with you. Not like this.
The house smells like vanilla and something faintly powdery, like baby lotion. The walls are decorated with framed photos of other littles, some you recognize from her stories, others you don’t. A stuffed elephant sits on a tiny chair in the hallway, watching you with button eyes as Mommy leads you past the living room, down a short corridor, and stops in front of a closed door.
“Here we are,” she says, pushing it open with a flourish.
Your breath catches.
The nursery is more than the photos. The crib in the corner is white, with a mobile of spinning stars above it. A changing table stands against one wall, stocked with wipes and creams and a stack of diapers so thick it makes your pulse race. There’s a playpen, a rocking horse, a shelf overflowing with stuffed animals and board books. And the colors, soft blues and yellows, the kind of pastels that make you feel small just looking at them.
You step inside, your sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, and suddenly the room feels both enormous and suffocating. This is real. This is happening.
Mommy watches you, amused. “Like it?”
You nod, but your voice betrays you. “It’s… a lot.”
She chuckles, stepping closer. “Good. It’s supposed to be a lot.” Her hand lifts, and before you can react, she’s booping your nose. “You’re a big boy out there, David. But in here?” She gestures around. “You’re a little boy. And Mommy takes good care of little boys.”
The words settle over you like a weight, but not an unwelcome one. It’s the kind of pressure that makes your chest tighten, your thoughts fuzzy. You want to argue, to remind her that you’re a grown man, but the way she’s looking at you, like she’s already stripped away every layer of adulthood, makes it hard to remember why that even matters.
“Now,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get you out of those icky big boy clothes, hmm?”
Your stomach flutters. You’ve talked about this, of course. Boundaries, expectations, the way she likes her littles to look. But talking about it and doing it are two very different things.
She doesn’t wait for you to move. Instead, she starts unbuttoning your shirt herself, her fingers deft as she peels it off your shoulders. You stand there, frozen, as the fabric pools at your feet. Then her hands are at your belt, popping the button on your jeans, tugging the zipper down.
“Lift your feet,” she instructs, and like a good boy, you obey, stepping out of your pants as she pulls them away. You’re left in just your boxers and a t-shirt, feeling absurdly exposed.
Mommy hums, tilting her head as she eyes you up and down. “Much better.” Then she reaches for the hem of your shirt. “Arms up.”
You raise them, and she pulls the fabric over your head, leaving you in nothing but your boxers. The air is cool against your skin, but the heat in her gaze more than makes up for it.
“Cute,” she murmurs, and you know she’s not talking about your face.
Your boxers come next, and for a second, you hesitate. This is the point of no return. But Mommy doesn’t give you time to overthink it. She hooks her fingers in the waistband and tugs, letting them fall to the floor. You step out of them, bare and vulnerable and hers.
She doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. Just smiles, soft and proud, like she’s unwrapping a gift.
“Now,” she says, turning to a dresser and pulling out a thick, white diaper. The crinkle of the plastic is loud in the quiet room. “Let’s get you into something more appropriate.”
You watch, mesmerized, as she unfolds it, the padding so thick it looks like it could swallow you whole. She pats the changing table. “Up you go, baby boy.”
The surface is cool against your bare skin as you lie back, your heart hammering. Mommy moves efficiently, lifting your hips to slide the diaper beneath you, then pulling it up between your legs. The tape is tight as she secures it, the snugness a constant reminder of what you’ve agreed to.
“There,” she says, smoothing the front with a satisfied pat. “All nice and cozy.”
You wiggle your toes, feeling the bulk between your legs. It’s… a lot. More than you expected. But it’s also right. Like a piece of you that’s been missing has finally clicked into place.
She grins, patting your diaper. “And no pants.” She waggles a finger as you open your mouth to protest. “I want to see that cute nappy bum, remember? Besides,” she adds, tapping the front of your diaper, “it’s easier to check on you this way.”
The thought of her checking on you sends another wave of heat to your face.
Next comes the shirt, a soft, short-sleeved Sesame Street tee, the fabric soft and cozy. She pulls it over your head, adjusting the collar with a satisfied nod. “Perfect.”
You look down at yourself. The shirt is snug, the diaper hug your hips, a constant, crinkly presence. You feel… small. Not in stature, but in mind. The worries, the doubts, they’re still there, but they’re quieter now, muffled by the warmth of her attention.
Mommy seems to sense your thoughts. She cups your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her eyes. “Nervous, baby boy?”
You nod, because what else is there to do?
She smiles, thumb brushing your cheek. “Good. You should be. This is a big step.” Then her expression softens. “But you’re safe here, David. I promise. No one’s going to judge you. No one’s going to laugh. You can just… be.”
She takes your hand again, leading you toward the crib. The bars are tall, the mattress plush, and for a second, your breath hitches. Locked in. The thought is both terrifying and thrilling.
“You can nap if you want,” she says, patting the sheet. “Or we can play. Or we can just sit and talk. Whatever you need.”
You glance at the crib, then back at her. “What if I… what if I don’t like it?”
Mommy chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Then we’ll figure it out. But I have a feeling,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper, “that you’re going to love it.”
And as she helps you climb into the crib, as the mattress dips beneath your weight, as the familiar crinkle of your diaper fills the silence, you realize something:
“How does it feel knowing the last time you used a toilet was the last time you used a toilet?” she teased. “How does it feel knowing that you’ll be doing this every day for the rest of your life?”
Here's chapter six of the ongoing, collaborative story written by me and my friend, BoysRBabies. We are writing alternating chapters—she wrote this one. For links to the previous chapters, see the bottom of the post.
18+ Only!
Chapter 6
“Okay, boys!” came a woman’s voice a little while later. The same lady who’d led them in their ridiculous after-nap dance earlier was poking her head out from behind the door to the classroom. “Time for everyone with a blue paci to come on in!”
The remaining boys got to their feet and started moving over to the classroom, shepherded by the women. For the first time, Tyler noticed that many of the men walked in an awkward way. Their thick diapers already pushed their legs apart and turned their normal strides into waddles, but this was more than that. They were lifting their feet too high, as if they were misjudging how much to lift them before putting them down. They stomped along rather than walked, mimicking the unsteady gait of the youngest of toddlers, and they stretched out their arms for balance as they went.
He wouldn’t end up like that, Tyler told himself forcefully. He’d be out of this place and far away before they ever got him near that point. He could feel the slip of paper inside his shoe. His ticket out of the nuthouse if he could just find a way to the mailroom. But that would have to come after whatever absurd new activity they had planned. A hand patted his bottom firmly and he looked over his shoulder to see Rosie smiling at him.
“No dawdling, sweetie,” she said. “Time for class!”
Scowling, Tyler looked ahead and followed the toddling men over to the door. Derek was just ahead of him and seemed to be walking fairly normally, but it was hard to tell with his diaper. Tyler couldn’t help but stare at the point between Derek’s thighs where the thick padding pushed them apart. The slightly yellowed, slightly sagging padding. Derek looked ridiculous. A grown man in a wet diaper. Is that what he looked like too? Tyler’s hand drifted self-consciously to his own crotch. Still dry. Of course he was. He was hardly going to piss himself without knowing, was he? Not when they hadn’t drugged him. He wasn’t a stupid little boy who still wet his pants.
No, said a voice in his head. You just wet the bed. He felt himself reddening. That wasn’t true. That was only once, because they’d done something to him. The same as when they’d drugged his apple juice and played that music and made him piss his pants somehow. He wasn’t a pantswetter. He wasn’t a bedwetter.
The red paci group finished exiting the room, and Tyler’s group took their place inside. Immediately he was pulled out of his thoughts. He was standing inside an oversized mockery of a kindergarten classroom. There was a whiteboard at one end of the room, surrounded by alphabet letters and rainbow stencils. There were a number of squat, childish desks and chairs, polished wood with brightly coloured backrests, but at the moment they were pushed against the walls to leave plenty of standing room. On the wall opposite the door was a large landscape poster, similar in style to the one Tyler had seen in the building’s entrance room. It also depicted a man dressed in the ABC uniform, this time standing in the middle of the picture with his thumb jammed in his mouth and a look of total idiocy on his face. To his left was a green arrow, pointing towards his head, with the words “Putting in what belongs!” printed on it. Around the arrow was a picture of a bib, a pacifier, a diaper, and a Venus symbol topped with a gold crown. To his right was a red arrow, pointing away, with the words “Taking out what doesn’t!” on it. There were pictures around this arrow too; a toilet, a knife and fork, a speech bubble with “@%&#!” written inside, and the curvy silhouette of a naked woman
“Today’s lesson is going to be a very special one,” announced the woman who’d called them in. She was a little older than most of the other staff members, Tyler noticed, though still good-looking. She turned to him, smiling. “My name is Miss Nora, Tyler. Now, normally, in my class we have sit-down lessons. We learn all about how to respect women, how to talk properly, how to act like the sweetest little boys, and so on. Not to say we don’t have plenty of fun! But today’s will be a more… practical lesson.” She turned her attention back to the class at large. “Our subject today will be pooping your pants!” She clapped her hands excitedly, and some of the boys copied her. Tyler just stared at her, dumbstruck. “We timed the class so it’s just after your post-lunch nap, right about the time our boys normally start feeling the need to make stinky-time in their diapies.”
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Tyler realized that he did need the bathroom.
“Thankfully it doesn’t seem like any of you made boom-booms already while you were waiting for the first class to be done,” Miss Nora went on, “which is just as well, because the point of this class will be to work on your public pooping. It’s an important part of your regression therapy. It doesn’t matter if you’re standing in front of your Mommy, or your coworkers, or the pretty girl at the checkout counter. When you feel the urge to go, you go. You don’t think about it. Thinking about it is what grown-ups do. Learning to go pee-pee in public isn’t usually that difficult, but pooping your pants in front of strangers can be a bit harder, especially since it’s so much more obvious what you’re doing. That’s why we’ve got some special guests to help you today!” She looked over to another door leading off the classroom. “Alright ladies, the second group can come on in!”
The door opened at once, and a crowd of excited-looking young women spilled into the room. Tyler blushed as red as a tomato, and his hand jumped to his diapered crotch in a fruitless attempt to cover it up. Having the lunatic staff see him dressed like this was one thing, but a bunch of strangers was another matter.
“Don’t be shy, boys!” Miss Nora called. “Our guests have come from all the nearby colleges to help you learn to make potty in your pants with an audience. Now remember ladies, it’s three to a baby. Divide into your groups and we’ll lead you over to your assigned little cutie!”
The young women quickly split into groups of three, and the Center staff began leading them over to the boys. It wasn’t long before Miss Rosie was walking over to Tyler with three others in tow. “Oh Tyler’s adorable,” she was saying to them, “even if he is a bit naughty. It’s still his first day, but in my opinion that will just make this even more fun!” She grinned at him when she saw him watching them. “Hi Tyger! Are you ready for some public pooping practice? Aren’t you lucky to have three lovely ladies to help you today?”
Tyler didn’t know how to respond. He was too busy reeling from the thought that he was expected to dirty his diaper in front of three college girls. Three hot college girls. Each of them was wearing a different coloured dress; one blue, one yellow, and one red. The girl in the blue dress was very pretty, slim but with a particularly large chest straining her otherwise modest dress. She was gazing at him like someone who’d just spotted the most adorable little puppy. The girl in the yellow dress was a blonde bombshell that reminded Tyler of his secretary, but there was a sneer on her face as she took him in, her pale blue eyes lingering disparagingly on his bulky diaper, and Tyler could tell she didn’t really want to be here. The girl in the red dress was smiling at him, but her mouth was twitching at the corners like she was struggling to fight back laughter as she looked him up and down. She was just as gorgeous as the other two, and her dark eyes sparkled mischievously.
Tyler realized they’d just finished introducing themselves, but he hadn’t paid attention to their names at all. He felt sick to his stomach. If they thought he was going to go along with this, they were insane. There was no way he was going to crap his pants in front of them! These were the kind of girls he’d take to bed after a night out at the bar!
“Okay Ty-Ty, time to get started,” said Miss Rosie. She was looking at him expectantly.
At last he found his voice. “No!” he blurted. “This is crazy! You can’t really think that I’m going to willingly do that in my… in this stupid diaper. I’m a fucking grown man and…”
“Tyler,” Rosie cut in warningly. “You’ve already had one spanking today. Do you need another? Do you need me to call Miss Catherine in here?”
Tyler clenched his fists. “No,” he said, through gritted teeth.
Rosie raised her eyebrows. “I think you mean no, Miss Rosie,” she said. “If you keep up that nasty attitude, I’ll have Miss Catherine give you a real spanking this time, not the light little paddling you got before. Is that what you want?”
“No, Miss Rosie, but…”
“Then be a good boy and make a messy diaper,” she said, brightening at once. “Poopy Pampers are going to be a normal part of your wardrobe from now on, mister, so you’d better get used to them. I know you’re embarrassed to make whoopsie-daisy in front of such pretty young ladies, but that’s something you’ll have to get used to as well.”
“It’s okay, Tyler,” said blue dress earnestly. “Go ahead and do a poo-poo.”
Yellow dress just raised an eyebrow at him contemptuously, but red dress giggled and said, “Yeah, come on Ty-Ty. It’s time to make a stinky!”
All around him, Tyler could hear the grunts of the other boys as they got to work filling their diapers, and the room was filled with the cooing and teasing and laughter of the women.
“That’s a good boy!”
“Oh my God, is this for real?”
“Awww! Someone’s makin’ uh-ohs!”
He imagined trying to resist, having that hulking nanny turn him over her lap again and spank him to tears right here in front of everybody. He looked at Miss Rosie desperately. “Please… I can’t… You can’t expect me to…”
“It’s only natural that you’re nervous,” she said soothingly. “This will be your first pair of messy pants since you were a very little boy… Although not as little as some, huh? Do you remember, Tyger? Do you remember that little accident at school in the third grade?”
Tyler felt himself going cold.
“Your mother told us about that one too. About how the school had to call her, to tell her that her son had pooped his pants on the playground, and could she come and bring a spare change of clothes.”
Tyler stared at her. He felt disoriented. Was there music playing again, or was that just his imagination? The memories were coming back to him. He could recall, vividly, how he’d ignored the need to go to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to miss breaktime. He’d been showing off on the monkey bars in front of his friends, and the girls, when it had suddenly become too much – he’d bent himself into the wrong position, he’d strained the wrong muscles, and he’d suddenly become aware of the load sitting in his pants. He’d escaped inside before anyone had noticed, and a teacher had found him crying in the toilets.
He’d told himself afterwards that he’d been ill, although he hadn’t felt sick at all, or that it was just some random freak event. Something that happens sometimes. Everyone has accidents, his mother’s voice seemed to whisper. Even big boys. Or was that Miss Rosie talking? Or the girl in the blue dress?
The teachers had been so sympathetic, but they’d never looked at him the same way again. His friends had never found out, and nor had the girls, nor had anyone beyond the staff. If they had, his life would have been over, his reputation ruined forever, no longer the cool kid on the playground but the loser who’d pooped his pants and had to be cleaned up by the school nurse.
Was that a tinkling tune playing in the background? He couldn’t tell with all the noise. Miss Rosie was rubbing his back, and gently she helped to bend his knees and lower him into a squat. Tyler felt like he was caught between two places. He was standing in the middle of the playground with a crowd of people around him, feeling the urge to go build stronger and stronger, and he was here in the Center, knees bent, knowing that he’d either have to fill his diaper now, or get a spanking first. He looked up despairingly into Miss Rosie’s eyes, shining with some mixture of sweetness and superiority, and then, as though it was a force outside of his control, he screwed up his face and started to grunt.
The back of his diaper sagged at once as he filled it with a large, yucky load. Tears spilled from his eyes, and he couldn’t help but look up at the three college girls. Blue dress was gazing at him adoringly, yellow dress was looking at him with mingled disgust and disbelief, and red dress was doubled up with laughter. He clenched his eyes shut and let out a pathetic whimper. What was he doing?!
“Good boy, Tyler!” cooed blue dress, over the sound of red dress’s hysterical laughter. “Oh, that’s so cute!”
He let out another loud grunt, and dumped another load of poopy into his pants. He felt blue dress put her arms around him. Squatted down as he was, his head was level with her breasts, and he could feel their warm flesh through her dress. Despite himself, his penis began to stiffen, but at that moment a rush of pee joined the mess in his diaper, drenching the front of the pristine white padding. Tyler started to sob into her cleavage. What was happening to him?!
At last, he finished pooping, the trickle of pee ran dry, blue dress pulled away, and the thirty-something year old businessman was left standing in front of four beautiful women with a soaked and stinky diaper sagging heavily down to his mid thighs. He had the slightly dazed look of a man who couldn’t quite believe what had just happened to him.
Red dress jumped forward, still giggling away to herself. She stepped behind Tyler, hooked a finger into the waistband of his diaper, and pulled it out. “Yuck!” she exclaimed happily, once she’d looked inside. She let the waistband snap back, and fanned her nose in an exaggerated way. “Pee-YEW!”
“Ugh, that’s so disgusting!” yellow dress complained. “How could any man let himself end up like this?”
“You sure you don’t want to pat his bottom, Julie?” red dress asked with a grin, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye and reaching out to jiggle Tyler’s droopy diaper.
This was too much for yellow dress, the girl named Julie. “Ew! Ew! NO!” she squealed, backing away.
Red dress laughed and turned back to him. “How does it feel knowing the last time you used a toilet was the last time you used a toilet?” she teased. “How does it feel knowing that you’ll be doing this every day for the rest of your life?”
Tyler still felt dazed and distant. It was as though the girl’s voices were reaching him from the end of a tunnel. But Miss Holly’s words came back to him, the ones she’d spoken while pointing at the little plastic potty sitting in the corner of her office. You don’t want one last potty trip?
“Don’t be so mean to him, Amy!” blue dress scolded. She turned her bright, kind eyes on him again. “I think it’s really cute that you’ll never use a potty again, Tyler,” she said. “I’m sure it feels a bit overwhelming at the moment, but I promise that one day you’ll be toddling around and pooping your pants in front of pretty girls like you do it every day – which you probably will!”
“That’s exactly right, Ella!” Miss Rosie agreed. “But there’s nothing wrong with a bit of teasing too. Let’s not forget that Tyler’s here because he’s been a very naughty boy! Now, thank you three so much for helping me with little Tyler. I’m sure he’s not going to forget this any time soon. You can head back to the bus now. You’ll be relieved to know we’re not asking you to change the babies!”
Blue dress, Ella, actually looked disappointed. Amy just smirked, and Julie said, “Thank God. I don’t think I could handle changing a grown man’s stinky adult diaper.”
Tyler’s lip wobbled. For a moment he hung on to the distance he’d built up inside him, the feeling of unreality, the sense that this could all be some awful dream, or something that was happening to someone else. But Julie’s final words had been just enough to break that down. He was a grown man in a stinky adult diaper. Tyler started to cry.
“Poor baby,” Miss Rosie cooed, taking his hand. “It’s okay, Tyger. Diapers are meant for pooping in! You’re not in trouble, mister. But come along, sweetie. I think you need a diapee change!”
Check out the previous installments of Tyler's adventures in the Regression Center here:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Want to read some more stories?
I publish stories of diapers and domination on Ream, including the 42,000 word Diaper Discipline: A Strict Wife's Guide.
BoysRBabies posts fantastic captions of forced regression here on Tumblr.
The nursery was quiet except for the soft crinkle of your diaper as you shifted in the playpen. The bars were tall, the padding beneath you plush, but none of it mattered. You were mad. Mommy had put you here for talking back, again, and no amount of pouting or kicking your feet was going to change that. The thick, baby-blue diaper between your legs felt like a betrayal, a reminder of how small she could make you feel when she wanted to.
You sighed, your pacifier bobbing as you sucked on it absently. The blanket beneath you was soft, but it did nothing to ease the frustration bubbling inside you. Without thinking, your hand drifted down, fingers pressing against the padded front of your diaper. The pressure was instant, a spark of something warm and forbidden. You bit down on your pacifier, your hips lifting just a little, seeking more.
That’s when you heard it, the soft creak of the rocking chair.
Mommy had been watching.
Her voice was sweet, almost musical, but there was a edge to it that made your stomach twist. "Aww, is my baby boy bored?" She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin propped up in her hands. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but her smile was knowing. Too knowing.
You froze, your hand still pressed against your diaper. You knew you weren’t supposed to touch yourself. Good boys didn’t do that. But the way she was looking at you, like she already knew exactly what you’d been doing, made your face burn.
Before you could pull your hand away, hers was there, slipping between the bars of the playpen. Her fingers curled around your wrist, not to stop you, but to guide you. "Boys don’t get to touch themselves," she murmured, her voice low and firm. "Only Mommy can touch you."
Your breath hitched. You should’ve been embarrassed. You were embarrassed. But the way her fingers replaced yours, pressing into the thick padding of your diaper, made it impossible to care. Her touch was deliberate, her palm cupping you through the layers of plastic and fluff. You whimpered, your hips jerking upward instinctively, seeking more pressure.
Mommy’s laugh was soft, almost a purr. "That’s it, baby. Let Mommy take care of you." Her fingers worked in slow, deliberate circles, her thumb pressing just there, right where you needed it most. The diaper crinkled loudly with every movement, the sound filling the quiet nursery. You could feel yourself getting harder, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable.
Your pacifier slipped from your lips as you panted, your free hand clutching at the blanket beneath you. "Mmm, someone’s very excited," Mommy teased, her voice dripping with amusement. She didn’t let up, her fingers never stilling, never giving you a moment to catch your breath. The pleasure was overwhelming, a hot, heavy weight in your groin that made your toes curl.
You tried to speak, to beg, but all that came out was a muffled, desperate sound. Your hips bucked against her hand, your body moving on its own, chasing the release that felt just out of reach. The diaper was warm now, damp from earlier, but the heat between your legs was something else entirely.
Mommy leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "You gonna make a mess for Mommy, baby?" Her voice was a whisper, but it might as well have been a command. The way she said it, like she already knew the answer, sent a shiver down your spine.
And then, just like that, you were there.
Your body tensed, your back arching off the blanket as the pleasure crashed over you. A choked cry tore from your throat, the sound muffled by the pacifier you’d barely managed to shove back into your mouth. Your hips jerked, once, twice, your entire body shuddering as you spilled into your diaper. The warmth spread quickly, the padding soaking up every last bit of your release. But Mommy wasn’t done. Her fingers kept moving, kept pressing, and the pleasure didn’t stop. Your body clenched, and with a gasp, you realized…
You were going number two, too.
The heat in your belly twisted, and before you could stop it, your diaper gave a loud, wet squelch. The smell hit you immediately, thick, musky, stinky. Your face burned with humiliation, but Mommy just giggled, her fingers finally stilling.
"Looks like someone made a big mess," she cooed, her voice laced with delight. She didn’t move to clean you up. Didn’t even reach for the wipes. Instead, she simply stood, her hands on her hips as she admired her handiwork.
You lay there, panting, your diaper sagging with the weight of your mess. The warmth was unbearable, the stickiness clinging to your skin. You wanted to squirm away, to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The playpen bars were still between you and freedom.
Mommy’s smile was wicked as she reached down and scooped you up, cradling you against her chest. You were heavy in her arms, your diaper a warm, squishy burden between you. "Such a messy boy," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "But you’re my messy boy."
She carried you to the crib, the one with the tall, unyielding bars, and laid you down gently. The mattress was cool beneath you, a stark contrast to the heat of your diaper. You whimpered, your fingers twisting in the sheets, but Mommy just shook her head.
"No, no, baby. You made this mess. You can stay in it a little while." She tapped your nose playfully, her eyes twinkling. "Besides, it’s almost naptime. And good boys nap in their sticky diapers, don’t they?"
You wanted to argue. Wanted to beg her to change you, to clean you up, to anything but leave you like this. But the look in her eyes brooked no argument. And deep down, beneath the embarrassment, beneath the discomfort, there was something else, a warm, fuzzy feeling, like the first sip of hot cocoa on a cold day.
Mommy tucked a blanket around you, her touch lingering on your shoulder. "Sleep well, baby," she said, her voice soft. "Mommy will check on you later."
And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your very full diaper.
reading people talking online about abdl when they don't understand it is very sad and makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong sometimes.
Being an abdl has been so therapeutic for me it's changed my life, I've suffered crippling anxieties my whole life and finally coming out has healed me in ways I can't even explain,
I understand the taboo but there's something about being stripped of my power that feels so rejuvenating. Spent my whole life in survival mode and having a diaper on calms my sense of panic to small things. Dressing cute and smol makes me feel like I'm reclaiming my vulnerability back, it allows my nervous system to decompress and I can feel safe to relax.
A few days ago, you voted for my little one to be given a chance to spend some time with no chastity after over a year wearing it 24/7 (except supervised time).
The first couple of days went quite well. He was obviously pent-up on some occasions, including babyfood dinner time (who would have guessed??) and once his Pamps were full. But he surprisingly remained in control and I did not see any naughty behavior. I could see he was struggling a bit not to touch his padding but did his very best.
On the third morning, I saw some "unusual movements" on the monitor and instantly got up to wake him up. Let me tell you someone had a very visible bulge under those pajamas and thick soggy Pamps…
Mornings being mornings, I did not say anything and just changed him. The rest of the day went well with no issue at all.
However, to my surprise he is the one who came to me on the evening of the fourth day to tell me that he wanted the cage back on. A plot twist I would not have anticipated! He explained that even though he did not like the cage, it made it much easier to be good and that it kept him out of trouble. No trouble means rewards. He said that having the cage off felt good at first, but in the end what was the point if he still couldn’t make stickies when he wanted to!? I guess there is no denying that, but I had been clear from the beginning and he had agreed to it. The problem mostly happened when in his crib by himself or when I was away for work. Being alone brings out naughtiness!
I was very pleased with this honest approach and we both agreed to put the cage back on 24/7 except on weekends when Daddy’s here at home.
As a reward for being such a good little one, he was allowed 10 minutes of naughty humpies in his very full Pamps before bath and before the cage got back on. Bet you can guess whether I found any extra surprises in that Pamp when I changed him.
Lesson of the week: Everything is always easier when daddy’s in control. 😉
Bibs are underrated. It’s a fact. In our community, we often hear about and see pictures displaying Pamps, pacis and onesies which definitely are a main part of this lifestyle. However, the power of bibs should not be ignored.
As a 24/7 Daddy, I do rely on them and find them particularly useful and cute when on my little guy. So, what types of bibs are there and why should you consider using them?
The food bib: The usual one. A life saver for caregivers. If you’re into baby food, it is a must have. If you’re into normal food, then there should be less trouble, but use one just in case. It’s never hurt anyone! My little one has not eaten without a bib in months and his onesies and pajamas thank me for it everyday. Those clothes are expensive and we wouldn’t want any baby bolognese to stain those pretty white pajamas, would we? It also allows me to have a bit of fun when feeding him and *purposely* miss his mouth a few times. Makes for very cute pictures every time… Shhh, don’t tell him anything or he could get fussy.😉
You can use a fabric one if you think the meal won’t be too messy, or a plastic one if a bigger mess is anticipated. Plastic ones also have a receptacle so that we don’t waste any of this baby food. Missed it the first time Kiddo? No worries, right back into your mouth!
The baba bib: This one can be smaller, worn for a shorter amount of time and for occasional dribbles. It is here to create a whole routine around bottle-feeding but isn’t generally needed. However, you want it on for peace of mind so that both Daddy and little one can enjoy this very very special moment without any worry. Can also be useful when it’s "burpie time", of course.
The drool bib: I added this one to my little Pamperpacker’s outfits recently. In 2026, actually. One of my goals was to see him more drooly. I think it’s extremely cute and is the symbol of absolute regression. So from now on, every afternoon in his playpen must be spent with a bib around his neck to catch any drooly mess coming from under his paci. You know me, there’s a reward at the end of the week/month if this bib ends up wet constantly over a certain period of time.
Results? I’ve got a drooly little guy when I come back from work almost every day!
The arts and crafts bib/ smock: A bib can be used for painting or drawing activities. Ideally, a smock can be better but if that’s all you have, it will do half the job and that’s better than nothing.
In any case, a bib will make any picture of your little one even cuter. If you enjoy this lifestyle occasionally it may be the perfect accessory to make any little Pamperfiller enter in little space instantly.
My little guy’s situation is a bit different since he is always in this headspace, so bibs have just become a normality and a necessity and I’m very happy about it 😉
- Daddy
Fetishes, Submission, Ageplay and Nonsense @gwapuk - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
