itâs important to start small. Offer it to her at the slightest sign of discomfort or inconvenience. She may refuse at first, finding it too silly, but consistency is key. Once she begins to accept it, be sure to shower her in praise and affection as positive reinforcement for this type of behavior. There are days she may regress in her training and claim she doesnât need it. Use these moments as learning opportunities for her by strapping her pacifier in her mouth for as long as is deemed necessary to help settle her down. As the dependency takes deeper root, keep her pacifier clipped to her top, so itâs never too far from her fussy, little reach. Soon sheâll be lost without the comfort she takes in nursing on her pacifier.
Encourage her to make her suckling obvious. The puffy cheeks and loud, greedy, wet smacks emitting from behind her pacifier shield provide her caregiver with the much needed proof that not only does baby have her pacifier securely in place where it belongs, but also that she is adequately acquiescing to her new accessory even when sheâs out of sight. Sure, sheâs guaranteed to have a chin thatâs permanently drenched and dripping with drool, but that just means itâs time to add another accessory to her repertoire - her â¨bibâ¨
If she thought relying on a pacifier to regulate her emotions was humiliating at her age, just wait until sheâs forced to have the shameful, spit soaked proof of her undeniable immaturity tied around her neck, on display for all to see.
Daddyâs nostrils flared as he stepped into the nursery, the air thick with the unmistakable scent of a very full diaper. His eyes immediately landed on his little one, sprawled out on the floral playmat, her purple tutu fluffed up around her as she giggled to herself, completely oblivious. The diaper beneath her was swollen, the printed stars and hearts stretched tight over the mess sheâd made. A dark, uneven stain spread across the back, the proof of her latest accident, though, to her, it wasnât an accident at all. It was just what good girls did.
Daddy crouched down beside her, his voice thick with amusement. âMmm, someoneâs been a very good girl, hasnât she?â he teased, his fingers hovering just above the puffy padding. The little one didnât even flinch. She was too busy twisting a lock of hair around her finger, her other hand patting the head of her stuffed whale. She didnât notice the mess. She never did. To her, the warmth and pressure were just part of being Daddyâs little one, comforting, even.
âDaddyâs playing!â she chirped, kicking her legs lazily. The diaper crinkled loudly beneath her, the sound filling the room. Daddyâs lips quirked as he tapped the swollen padding. âOh, I see what youâve been playing at,â he said, his voice dripping with mock sternness. âAnd what a messy game it is.â
She blinked up at him, her expression innocent, her mind blissfully unaware of the stinkie situation beneath her. âHuh?â she asked, tilting her head. Daddy chuckled, shaking his head. âYou donât even know, do you?â he asked, though he already knew the answer. She never did. His little one was unpotty trained to the core, her body did what it needed, and she simply existed in the blissful ignorance of a true little.
âKnow what, Daddy?â she asked, her voice sweet and clueless. Daddy sighed, though his eyes were warm. âThat youâve made a very big, very stinkie poopy in your diaper,â he explained, his fingers pressing gently against the bulging padding. The little one giggled, her toes curling as the pressure shifted. âOhhh,â she cooed, as if this were a revelation. âIs that why itâs all squishy back there?â
Daddy couldnât help but laugh. âYes, princess. Thatâs exactly why.â He reached for the changing mat, unfolding it with a practiced flick. âBut thatâs okay, because good girls do make poopies. And Daddyâs here to take care of you, isnât he?â
She beamed up at him, her face lighting up. âMhm! Daddy always takes care of me!â she agreed, finally rolling onto her back as he lifted her onto the mat. The diaper squelched beneath her, the sound making Daddy wrinkle his nose, but only for a second. He loved this. Loved her. Loved the way she could be so perfectly, blissfully unaware of her own messes, trusting him to handle everything.
âThatâs right,â Daddy murmured, peeling back the tapes of her diaper. The mess inside was impressive.... But Daddy didnât mind. This was part of the job of having a little one who was unpotty trainedâwho let her body do what it needed, without shame or hesitation. âGood girls make poopies,â he reminded her, his voice soft as he began to clean her up. âAnd Daddy loves taking care of his good girl.â
She giggled as the wipes touched her skin, her legs kicking playfully. âDaddyâs the best,â she declared, her voice full of pride. Daddy chuckled, shaking his head as he worked. âAnd youâre the stinkiest,â he teased, though there was no real frustration in his voice. Only affection. Only love.
As he powdered her bottom, the puff of white dust making her sneeze, she wiggled happily. âDoes this mean I get a new diaper?â she asked, her eyes sparkling. Daddy grinned, reaching for the fresh one, this one with tiny pink bunnies. âOf course it does, princess. Because good girls always get fresh diapers.â
She clapped her hands, her tutu flaring out around her as she bounced with excitement. âYay! I love diapers!â Daddy secured the tapes snugly around her waist, his touches gentle and sure. âThere we go,â he murmured, helping her sit up. âAll clean. All fresh. And still Daddyâs good girl.â
She threw her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. âThe best good girl!â she declared. Daddy laughed, hugging her close. âYes, you are,â he agreed. âNow, how about we go show off your fresh diaper to your stuffed friends? Iâm sure theyâre very jealous.â
She gasped, her eyes wide with delight. âOoooh, can I, Daddy? Can I show them?â Daddy nodded, ruffling her hair. âOf course, princess. But firstâŚâ He raised an eyebrow, his voice shifting into something firmer. âLetâs go wash those hands, hmm? Even good girls need clean hands.â
She pouted for a second, but the promise of showing off her fresh diaper was too exciting. She let Daddy pull her to her feet, her new diaper crinkling with every step. As they walked toward the sink, she glanced back at the playmat, at the stuffed animals watching silently. She couldnât wait to tell them all about her new diaper and how Daddy had taken such good care of her. Because thatâs what good girls did. And thatâs what Daddies were for.
This caption was written with, is for, and features the adorable @prettymuchpottytrained. I just may have a few more captions left in the tank after all.
Anyone watching you through the baby monitor would be forgiven for thinking you were nothing more than a toddler refusing to sleep. Between the expensive baby monitor Daddy bought and the Bluey nightlight, your infantile state was impossible to miss.
Your Bluey shirt failed spectacularly to cover your overworked Stardust Nursery diaper, which drooped adorably between your legs. Your binky bobbed sporadically while you surveyed the nursery.
Nobody seeing you would ever believe you were actually an adult.
But you could hear what the baby monitor could notâthe telltale sounds of pleasure coming from Daddyâs bedroom.
âAhhh, she's so stinking cute in her widdle diapers!â Mary squealed in delight, watching the diaper-clad girl on Daddy's phone, âSheâs like a real baby with her pacifier!â
âJust wait,â Daddy said behind a smirk, knowing what's about to happen. âIt gets better. But try not to wake her up. It was hard enough putting her down for her nap and sheâs just as fussy as a toddler if it gets interrupted.â
Daddyâs friends nod conspiratorially as they go back to watching the recording on his phone while you nap down the hall, blissfully unaware that your antics are the star of the show.
Had you known the baby monitor had a camera, you might have resisted your urges.
But you didnât.
You couldnât resist the siren song of pleasure. Between Mommyâs moans and Daddyâs decisive gruntsâand your throbbing princess partsâyou were utterly helpless to control yourself.
There you were, kneeling in your crib and diaper, listening to the unmistakable sounds of pure, erotic bliss, forced to accept the truth of your new place in life.
Nobody considered you an adult anymore.
Your nursery was no longer ornamental; it was a functional room designed to handle the needs of a diaper-dependent little one.
Your diapers were no longer accessories; they were necessary. It had been so long since you used the potty that the only time you spent out of them was for baths and the few minutes a day Daddy let your skin air out.
Your clothes no longer serve to highlight your feminine curves; they were designed to make diaper changes easier for Daddy.
Your binky was no longer a âmute button;â it was a necessary tool to calm the nerves of someone too emotionally immature to be expected to self-soothe.
Naptime is no longer an occasional event; it is now a daily requirement to avoid tantrums. One missed nap meant hours of fussiness.
Daddy didnât strip away your decision-making and autonomy because he made you squirm; he did it because he no longer believes you are capable of managing yourself without a caregiver.
He sees you for who you are.
You arenât his strong, independent wife anymore; youâre his poopy pamper princess. He knows you donât need him to be a husbandâyou need Daddy. Someone to wipe the tears off your cheeks when youâre overwhelmed, to change your icky diapies, and to slide your favorite stuffy into your arms before bed.
Which is why Mommy is the one moaning in pleasureânot you.
You didn't get demoted to the nursery because you're just some silly cuckquean, getting off on being relegated to humping stuffies in a soggy diaper. He's not doing it to tease, humiliate, or titillate you.
Heâs doing it because he can no longer imagine the sweet, innocent babygirl who squeals in delight when he blows raspberries on her tummy during poopy diaper changes as a sexual being.
Youâre his baby.
His love for you is as strong as the day he married youâbut the nature of your intimate moments together has irreconcilably changed.
For him, nothing beats the slow, tender evenings with you wrapped up in his arms, staring up at him with sleepy eyes full of love, your binky bobbing slower and slower until you drift off.
Or the rainy weekends when he raids the linen closet so he can build a fort with his little one, making room for every stuffy. Or the binky kisses.
How could he possibly imagine you as an adult with sexual desires?
âWaitâŚsheâs not gonna use that stuffy to do that, right?â James gasped, watching you lay your favorite stuffy on his back.
Mommy and Daddy look at each other, trying not to laugh.
âShe does have one naughty big girl habit,â Mommy chuckled as you positioned yourself with the stuffy, âBut itâs just so stinking cute. Best part is she thinks sheâs sneaky, too.â
They watch your adorably clumsy thrusts into your favorite stuffy. Slowly at first, glancing at the door periodically. Then faster. Greedier.
Mary sighed, âI can't believe I took sex advice from her.â
âMaybe you should take a leaf from her book,â James quipped, âYou've been single for so long, maybe a stuffy would be the perfect boyfriend. Besides, you'd look so cute in one of those diapers! Wait, her little diaper crinkles as she humps are adorable!â
Daddy immediately rushed to pause the video.
âWhy'd you pause it?â
âBecause the video doesn't have sound...â
âWha-whacha wachin', Daddy?â you mumbled. You were too groggy from your nap to be embarrassed about your friends seeing your adorably frizzy hair, diaper, and binky.
âOh, just some boring video, nothing you'd enjoy, kiddo.â
Daddy slid the phone into his pocket before lifting you up and resting you on his hip.
âOh my gosh, do the stars on her diaper fade away when she's wet?â Mary asks, âSee, those stars are normal, and those ones are gone.â
Daddy crinkles your diaper playfully. âThey do! We thought they might help her with some potty training. Seeing her stars go 'bye-bye' might inspire her to stay dry, but...Well, let's just say I expect diapers to be part of her life for a long, long time.â
Knowing your diaper is on full displayâand hearing everyone casually talk about your potty training strugglesâyou hide your face in Daddy's neck, holding onto him like a koala in a hurricane.
âWhat are you doing out of bed, hmm?â Daddy cooed, bouncing you slightly to distract you from noticing his hand pulling back your diaper.
âD-Dada!â you whine at the indignity of this public diaper check.
Daddy rubs your back. âUh oh...are you Dada's little stinkerpants? Poor baby, trying to sleep in that icky yucky didi...â
You peel yourself from Dada's neck to give him your devastating puppy-dog eyes.
âC'mon, baby, let's get you out of that poopy diapie,â Daddy says, heading towards your nursery.
As you're carried off you catch something about a stuffy and laughter.
âWuh funny bou' sthuffie, Dada?â you ask as you're gently deposited onto the changing table.
Daddy tickles your tummy. âOh, they can't get over how much you love your stuffies, that's all.â
For a split-second, a horrible dread crept into your mindâdo they know? Why did Daddy say "love" like that? Did Daddy hear when you...played with Dijon?
But the thought is forgotten the moment cold air rushes into your princess parts as Daddy peels back your diaper.
The only thing that mattered was Daddy putting you in a fresh, warm diaper.
This caption was written with, is for, and features the adorable @prettymuchpottytrained. I just may have a few more captions left in the tank after all.
Anyone watching you through the baby monitor would be forgiven for thinking you were nothing more than a toddler refusing to sleep. Between the expensive baby monitor Daddy bought and the Bluey nightlight, your infantile state was impossible to miss.
Your Bluey shirt failed spectacularly to cover your overworked Stardust Nursery diaper, which drooped adorably between your legs. Your binky bobbed sporadically while you surveyed the nursery.
Nobody seeing you would ever believe you were actually an adult.
But you could hear what the baby monitor could notâthe telltale sounds of pleasure coming from Daddyâs bedroom.
âAhhh, she's so stinking cute in her widdle diapers!â Mary squealed in delight, watching the diaper-clad girl on Daddy's phone, âSheâs like a real baby with her pacifier!â
âJust wait,â Daddy said behind a smirk, knowing what's about to happen. âIt gets better. But try not to wake her up. It was hard enough putting her down for her nap and sheâs just as fussy as a toddler if it gets interrupted.â
Daddyâs friends nod conspiratorially as they go back to watching the recording on his phone while you nap down the hall, blissfully unaware that your antics are the star of the show.
Had you known the baby monitor had a camera, you might have resisted your urges.
But you didnât.
You couldnât resist the siren song of pleasure. Between Mommyâs moans and Daddyâs decisive gruntsâand your throbbing princess partsâyou were utterly helpless to control yourself.
There you were, kneeling in your crib and diaper, listening to the unmistakable sounds of pure, erotic bliss, forced to accept the truth of your new place in life.
Nobody considered you an adult anymore.
Your nursery was no longer ornamental; it was a functional room designed to handle the needs of a diaper-dependent little one.
Your diapers were no longer accessories; they were necessary. It had been so long since you used the potty that the only time you spent out of them was for baths and the few minutes a day Daddy let your skin air out.
Your clothes no longer serve to highlight your feminine curves; they were designed to make diaper changes easier for Daddy.
Your binky was no longer a âmute button;â it was a necessary tool to calm the nerves of someone too emotionally immature to be expected to self-soothe.
Naptime is no longer an occasional event; it is now a daily requirement to avoid tantrums. One missed nap meant hours of fussiness.
Daddy didnât strip away your decision-making and autonomy because he made you squirm; he did it because he no longer believes you are capable of managing yourself without a caregiver.
He sees you for who you are.
You arenât his strong, independent wife anymore; youâre his poopy pamper princess. He knows you donât need him to be a husbandâyou need Daddy. Someone to wipe the tears off your cheeks when youâre overwhelmed, to change your icky diapies, and to slide your favorite stuffy into your arms before bed.
Which is why Mommy is the one moaning in pleasureânot you.
You didn't get demoted to the nursery because you're just some silly cuckquean, getting off on being relegated to humping stuffies in a soggy diaper. He's not doing it to tease, humiliate, or titillate you.
Heâs doing it because he can no longer imagine the sweet, innocent babygirl who squeals in delight when he blows raspberries on her tummy during poopy diaper changes as a sexual being.
Youâre his baby.
His love for you is as strong as the day he married youâbut the nature of your intimate moments together has irreconcilably changed.
For him, nothing beats the slow, tender evenings with you wrapped up in his arms, staring up at him with sleepy eyes full of love, your binky bobbing slower and slower until you drift off.
Or the rainy weekends when he raids the linen closet so he can build a fort with his little one, making room for every stuffy. Or the binky kisses.
How could he possibly imagine you as an adult with sexual desires?
âWaitâŚsheâs not gonna use that stuffy to do that, right?â James gasped, watching you lay your favorite stuffy on his back.
Mommy and Daddy look at each other, trying not to laugh.
âShe does have one naughty big girl habit,â Mommy chuckled as you positioned yourself with the stuffy, âBut itâs just so stinking cute. Best part is she thinks sheâs sneaky, too.â
They watch your adorably clumsy thrusts into your favorite stuffy. Slowly at first, glancing at the door periodically. Then faster. Greedier.
Mary sighed, âI can't believe I took sex advice from her.â
âMaybe you should take a leaf from her book,â James quipped, âYou've been single for so long, maybe a stuffy would be the perfect boyfriend. Besides, you'd look so cute in one of those diapers! Wait, her little diaper crinkles as she humps are adorable!â
Daddy immediately rushed to pause the video.
âWhy'd you pause it?â
âBecause the video doesn't have sound...â
âWha-whacha wachin', Daddy?â you mumbled. You were too groggy from your nap to be embarrassed about your friends seeing your adorably frizzy hair, diaper, and binky.
âOh, just some boring video, nothing you'd enjoy, kiddo.â
Daddy slid the phone into his pocket before lifting you up and resting you on his hip.
âOh my gosh, do the stars on her diaper fade away when she's wet?â Mary asks, âSee, those stars are normal, and those ones are gone.â
Daddy crinkles your diaper playfully. âThey do! We thought they might help her with some potty training. Seeing her stars go 'bye-bye' might inspire her to stay dry, but...Well, let's just say I expect diapers to be part of her life for a long, long time.â
Knowing your diaper is on full displayâand hearing everyone casually talk about your potty training strugglesâyou hide your face in Daddy's neck, holding onto him like a koala in a hurricane.
âWhat are you doing out of bed, hmm?â Daddy cooed, bouncing you slightly to distract you from noticing his hand pulling back your diaper.
âD-Dada!â you whine at the indignity of this public diaper check.
Daddy rubs your back. âUh oh...are you Dada's little stinkerpants? Poor baby, trying to sleep in that icky yucky didi...â
You peel yourself from Dada's neck to give him your devastating puppy-dog eyes.
âC'mon, baby, let's get you out of that poopy diapie,â Daddy says, heading towards your nursery.
As you're carried off you catch something about a stuffy and laughter.
âWuh funny bou' sthuffie, Dada?â you ask as you're gently deposited onto the changing table.
Daddy tickles your tummy. âOh, they can't get over how much you love your stuffies, that's all.â
For a split-second, a horrible dread crept into your mindâdo they know? Why did Daddy say "love" like that? Did Daddy hear when you...played with Dijon?
But the thought is forgotten the moment cold air rushes into your princess parts as Daddy peels back your diaper.
The only thing that mattered was Daddy putting you in a fresh, warm diaper.
This caption was written with, is for, and features the adorable @prettymuchpottytrained. I just may have a few more captions left in the tank after all.
Anyone watching you through the baby monitor would be forgiven for thinking you were nothing more than a toddler refusing to sleep. Between the expensive baby monitor Daddy bought and the Bluey nightlight, your infantile state was impossible to miss.
Your Bluey shirt failed spectacularly to cover your overworked Stardust Nursery diaper, which drooped adorably between your legs. Your binky bobbed sporadically while you surveyed the nursery.
Nobody seeing you would ever believe you were actually an adult.
But you could hear what the baby monitor could notâthe telltale sounds of pleasure coming from Daddyâs bedroom.
âAhhh, she's so stinking cute in her widdle diapers!â Mary squealed in delight, watching the diaper-clad girl on Daddy's phone, âSheâs like a real baby with her pacifier!â
âJust wait,â Daddy said behind a smirk, knowing what's about to happen. âIt gets better. But try not to wake her up. It was hard enough putting her down for her nap and sheâs just as fussy as a toddler if it gets interrupted.â
Daddyâs friends nod conspiratorially as they go back to watching the recording on his phone while you nap down the hall, blissfully unaware that your antics are the star of the show.
Had you known the baby monitor had a camera, you might have resisted your urges.
But you didnât.
You couldnât resist the siren song of pleasure. Between Mommyâs moans and Daddyâs decisive gruntsâand your throbbing princess partsâyou were utterly helpless to control yourself.
There you were, kneeling in your crib and diaper, listening to the unmistakable sounds of pure, erotic bliss, forced to accept the truth of your new place in life.
Nobody considered you an adult anymore.
Your nursery was no longer ornamental; it was a functional room designed to handle the needs of a diaper-dependent little one.
Your diapers were no longer accessories; they were necessary. It had been so long since you used the potty that the only time you spent out of them was for baths and the few minutes a day Daddy let your skin air out.
Your clothes no longer serve to highlight your feminine curves; they were designed to make diaper changes easier for Daddy.
Your binky was no longer a âmute button;â it was a necessary tool to calm the nerves of someone too emotionally immature to be expected to self-soothe.
Naptime is no longer an occasional event; it is now a daily requirement to avoid tantrums. One missed nap meant hours of fussiness.
Daddy didnât strip away your decision-making and autonomy because he made you squirm; he did it because he no longer believes you are capable of managing yourself without a caregiver.
He sees you for who you are.
You arenât his strong, independent wife anymore; youâre his poopy pamper princess. He knows you donât need him to be a husbandâyou need Daddy. Someone to wipe the tears off your cheeks when youâre overwhelmed, to change your icky diapies, and to slide your favorite stuffy into your arms before bed.
Which is why Mommy is the one moaning in pleasureânot you.
You didn't get demoted to the nursery because you're just some silly cuckquean, getting off on being relegated to humping stuffies in a soggy diaper. He's not doing it to tease, humiliate, or titillate you.
Heâs doing it because he can no longer imagine the sweet, innocent babygirl who squeals in delight when he blows raspberries on her tummy during poopy diaper changes as a sexual being.
Youâre his baby.
His love for you is as strong as the day he married youâbut the nature of your intimate moments together has irreconcilably changed.
For him, nothing beats the slow, tender evenings with you wrapped up in his arms, staring up at him with sleepy eyes full of love, your binky bobbing slower and slower until you drift off.
Or the rainy weekends when he raids the linen closet so he can build a fort with his little one, making room for every stuffy. Or the binky kisses.
How could he possibly imagine you as an adult with sexual desires?
âWaitâŚsheâs not gonna use that stuffy to do that, right?â James gasped, watching you lay your favorite stuffy on his back.
Mommy and Daddy look at each other, trying not to laugh.
âShe does have one naughty big girl habit,â Mommy chuckled as you positioned yourself with the stuffy, âBut itâs just so stinking cute. Best part is she thinks sheâs sneaky, too.â
They watch your adorably clumsy thrusts into your favorite stuffy. Slowly at first, glancing at the door periodically. Then faster. Greedier.
Mary sighed, âI can't believe I took sex advice from her.â
âMaybe you should take a leaf from her book,â James quipped, âYou've been single for so long, maybe a stuffy would be the perfect boyfriend. Besides, you'd look so cute in one of those diapers! Wait, her little diaper crinkles as she humps are adorable!â
Daddy immediately rushed to pause the video.
âWhy'd you pause it?â
âBecause the video doesn't have sound...â
âWha-whacha wachin', Daddy?â you mumbled. You were too groggy from your nap to be embarrassed about your friends seeing your adorably frizzy hair, diaper, and binky.
âOh, just some boring video, nothing you'd enjoy, kiddo.â
Daddy slid the phone into his pocket before lifting you up and resting you on his hip.
âOh my gosh, do the stars on her diaper fade away when she's wet?â Mary asks, âSee, those stars are normal, and those ones are gone.â
Daddy crinkles your diaper playfully. âThey do! We thought they might help her with some potty training. Seeing her stars go 'bye-bye' might inspire her to stay dry, but...Well, let's just say I expect diapers to be part of her life for a long, long time.â
Knowing your diaper is on full displayâand hearing everyone casually talk about your potty training strugglesâyou hide your face in Daddy's neck, holding onto him like a koala in a hurricane.
âWhat are you doing out of bed, hmm?â Daddy cooed, bouncing you slightly to distract you from noticing his hand pulling back your diaper.
âD-Dada!â you whine at the indignity of this public diaper check.
Daddy rubs your back. âUh oh...are you Dada's little stinkerpants? Poor baby, trying to sleep in that icky yucky didi...â
You peel yourself from Dada's neck to give him your devastating puppy-dog eyes.
âC'mon, baby, let's get you out of that poopy diapie,â Daddy says, heading towards your nursery.
As you're carried off you catch something about a stuffy and laughter.
âWuh funny bou' sthuffie, Dada?â you ask as you're gently deposited onto the changing table.
Daddy tickles your tummy. âOh, they can't get over how much you love your stuffies, that's all.â
For a split-second, a horrible dread crept into your mindâdo they know? Why did Daddy say "love" like that? Did Daddy hear when you...played with Dijon?
But the thought is forgotten the moment cold air rushes into your princess parts as Daddy peels back your diaper.
The only thing that mattered was Daddy putting you in a fresh, warm diaper.
Your Mother got you a new Nanny that doesn't speak any English. You being the little pervert you are, have been wearing your bedtime diapers around the house when your Mom is gone. You like the humiliation and the thrill of being caught. You wear your crinkly diaper under some sweatpants, making sure to show the waistline as much as possible around your new Nanny. One day you got the idea that maybe you could have her catch you changing them.
You set it up, she was going room to room cleaning and making the beds. No one else was home so you took your pants off, put your fresh diaper, wipes, and powder on the bed. Then laid down and started untapping your soggy pamper. You were so excited to get caught your little PP was hard when you opened your diaper and pulled your legs back for her to see upon entering. You pretended not to notice her, and proceeded to wipe your own hairless ass and balls.
She came in the room and was surprised. She at first probably thought she caught you masturbating and put her head down and said sorry in Spanish. But as she went to close the door her eyes drifted back to your tiny little stiffy, she tried to stifle a giggle unsuccessfully, and then lingered a little longer. Your horniness turned from excited to ashamed. What the hell were you doing? But at the same time your Nanny's shock and amusement changed to apathy when she noticed your diapering supplies.
Thinking she had just laughed at a kid with special needs in her care. Horrified, she went into Mother mode. She dropped what she was holding and approached you to help. She said a few words in Spanish you didn't understand then grabbed a wipe with one hand and your ankles with the other some how. She held your legs back and proceeded to wipe your ass clean. She then grabbed the fresh pamper and slid it underneath you with one motion. She powered you, taped the diaper up over your stiff little willy, and patted your freshly padded bottom. She then got up and proceeded to continue cleaning your bedroom.
You were left stunned, shirt on, no pants, diaper out for anyone to see. Humiliated, yet so turned on, not knowing what to do next. You tried not to make eye contact with this woman who had just seen you naked and changed your diaper. So naturally you stared at her big natural bust that was swaying as she cleaned. At your age it was hard not to focus on that once you noticed it. Especially with a tiny boner that would not seem to subside.
She watched you out of the corner of her eye. Still feeling guilty for laughing at your baby penis. When she took this job she had really no idea what your Mother told her to do. So she just made it up as she went along. Cleaning and doing laundry, cooking and watching her son. Had she missed something? Did this woman expect her to diaper and care for her son as a baby? She noticed he wore diapers around the house a lot. But she figured they were for bedwetting and he was too lazy to change out of them in the morning. Did white family's keep their kids in diapers this long?
Noticing you staring at her breasts still, she stopped and looked at you thinking to her self. "Is this boy horny or hungry." Feeling like she already messed up this day, she decided to throw caution to the wind. She sat on the bed next to you, dropped the top of her low cut dress and looked you dead in the eyes. Shocked by her perfect natural Mommy milker's, the humiliation, the shame, and the EXCITEMENT that had unfolded today! You felt your little PP start to switch. "Oh no," you thought as this had happened to you quite frequently around women. You were building up, your balls were tightening, and you were about to premature ejaculate into your diaper in front of this woman. In one last grand gesture to communicate with you, she stared in your eyes and made a sucking face, indicating she wanted you to SUCK HER BREASTS! Overwhelmed with hormones you leaned in to FINALLY feel a real boobie, with your MOUTH! But the change in the angle of your body when leaning caused the smallest amount of friction in your diaper and you exploded in pleasure! Shaking, moaning, and probably going cross-eyed, you caught your self from falling over and leaned back at the last second. Convulsing, whimpering, and instinctively humping your baby load into your fresh pamper with your thumb in your mouth... It became clear to anyone what had just happened. Especially your Nanny.
To her credit, she got up, put her breasts away. Got a fresh diaper from your closet, and began changing you out of your sticky loser mess.
This caption was written withâand of course featuresâthe amazingly talented @prettymuchpottytrained02. Such a cutie.
A mobile slowly spins above her crib, barely visible in the soft, warm glow of the nightlight.
Dreamy, delicate melodies of long-forgotten nursery rhymes drift from the antique music box in the corner of the nursery.
None of this made any difference to the sole occupant of the nursery.
Peanut glared at the mobile, her binkie bobbing furiously in her mouth. She dramatically kicked off her blankets in a fit of frustration at the muffled cheers invading her nursery.
It wasnât fair!
All she wanted was to stay up one nightâone night!âpast her bedtime to watch the big football game with Daddy and his friends!
It was her team, too! Daddy knew how excited she was about the game.
She ruminated about how she used every tool in her arsenal to soften Daddy up over the last week. How she went to bed every night without a fuss. Gave him her best puppy-dog eyes each morning when she lay in his lap, suckling her baba.
She even picked up all the toys scattered around her nursery without Daddy asking! Daddyâs perfect angel.
Just to end up in her crib at bedtime.
Another chorus of cheers interrupted the tranquility of her nursery. She kicked her legs at the injustice of it all.
The sudden movement, so similar to the bicycle kicks Daddy insists on whenever her tummy is full of bubbles, results in a stream of toots.
âHmpff,â she pouted, even angrier that her outburst backfired.
She folded her arms, resigned to her fate, until an idea struck her. A smirk grew behind her binky.
If Daddy wouldnât let her watch the game, then she wouldnât let him watch, either.
Grabbing the bars of her crib, she pulled herself to her knees. Her diapered bum floating just above her toes.
The perfect position to fill her diaper.
A series of tiny grunts and ragged breaths filled the room as she pushed, determined to load her diaper.
Her only progress after a few minutes of effort was a single, terrifying toot so loud it must have been heard in the other room.
Red-faced, frustrated, and out of breath, she throws herself flat on her back. Why was it so hard? She never has to try! Most of the time, she doesnât know sheâs pooping until her diaper gets heavy!
Lost in thought, she unconsciously fiddles with her feet, pulling them close to her face.
Suddenly, everyone in the other room cheers in unison, startling her. Before Peanut can react, her diaper crinkles softly as it expands. She reflexively grunts as her body takes over, pushing more mess into her diaper.
Peanut pulls her feet closer, unaware sheâs loading her diaper.
By the time she realizes sheâs pooping, sheâs almost done. Her diaper was already bulging to accommodate its burden. She giggles in between grunts.
Mission accomplished.
She sits up, giggling harder as the mess spreads even more. Usually, sheâd avoid mushing her mess, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
As she reaches for the latch to escape her crib, she notices her favorite stuffie watching her.
Judging her.
âDonâ judth me, Dithon,â she lisps through her paci, âDada thtarted it!â
The enormity of Peanutâs mess is immediately obvious the moment she steps out of her crib; her diaper droops dangerously as she waddles to the door. Her shirt is far too short to cover her diaper.
Had she been less stubborn she would at least have the onesie Daddy got her for the game to support and concealâwell, at least coverâher diaper.
But no, she had to be fussy and reject it.
It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright light, though she waddles on anyway, making her way to noise down the hall, thankful it drowned out her crinkles.
She reaches the end of the hallway, heart beating fast. Not only is she not supposed to be out of bed, she isnât particularly keen on being seen in a diaper this messy.
No matter how many times sheâs been around Daddyâs friends, how many times heâs loudly announced she needed a change, how many times heâs marched her to another room for a diaper change, she still squirms being in a full diaper around them.
She quickly peeks around the corner to find Daddy and get his attention without his friends noticing. To her horror, Daddyâs friend Bailey happened to be looking right at her. She tried to hide, hoping she wasnât seen.
âWas that you, little one? Did I see a peeking Peanut just now?â
Peanut doesnât move. Maybe Bailey will think she was seeing things.
âI did see a peeking Peanut!â Bailey coos, finding Peanut âEverything okay, honey? Daddy put you to bed an hour ago.â
Bailey looks down at Peanutâs droopy diaper.
Unable to meet Baileyâs eyes, Peanut stares at the hardwood floor.
âOh, poor baby, I bet that diaper doesnât feel very good, huh? Come on, honey, letâs go find your Daddy.â
âMâŚm-bu,â Peanut mumbles, eyes wide at Baileyâs suggestion.
âHush, honey,â Bailey soothed the poor girl, wrapping her in a hug and gently patting her diaper, âWe need to get you out of that diaper before we have a blowout on our hands.â
A hand guides Peanut forward, out of the safety of the hallway and into the living room. She feels the eyes of everyone in the room on herâand her diaper.
âUh oh, looks like somebody needs a change!â Jane, another of Daddyâs friends, says.
âYou can say that again, poor thing. Anyone know where her Daddy is?â
âHe just went to the bathroom, Iâll go get him,â Larry says.
A silence that lasts an eternity overtakes the room. Peanut tries to avoid eye contact and pretend everyone is watching the game and not the helpless baby in a poopy diaper.
âPeanut, what are you doing out of bed, hmmm?â Daddy asks as he walks over to his little one, âI was just about to check on you.â
Peanut feels Bailey pat her diaper. âProbably has something to do with this.â
The others in the room groan at the game.
âOh, Peanut,â Daddy says distractedly, watching the game, âIâll change you after this drive, okay?â
âNo, no, no, look at her!â Bailey chastised Daddy, âHer diaper is about to fall off!â
Jane stands up, giving Daddy the evil eye before turning to Peanut, âDonât worry little one, we wonât make you wait. Where are your diapers, sweetie?â
Peanutâs binkie bobs a bit more. âUmmmâŚmânurswy.â
âHoney, youâre lucky your diaper hasnât fallen off already. That wonât make it down the hall,â Bailey insisted, âIâll get you out of that icky diaper right here, okay? Doesnât a clean diapie sound nice?â
This was not the plan.
The plan was for Daddy to change her diaper in the nurseryânot getting her diaper changed by Bailey right here in front of everyone!
Bailey kneels in front of Peanut with the diaper bag, looking deep into her eyes. âYou have nothing to be embarrassed about, little one. Itâs just a poopy diapie. Will you let us get that tushie fresh and clean?â
âM-mhm.â
Bailey tickles her tummy. âGood girl! Your Daddy always brags about his brave little Peanut.â
Somehow, despite getting her poopy diaper changed right there in front of everyone, Peanut found herself loving the attention from Jane and Bailey.
Jane made the silliest faces playing peek-a-boo while Peanut giggled in utter delight whenever Bailey blew raspberries on her tummy.
By the time Bailey carefully rolled her messy diaper into a ball and slid a fresh diaper under her, Peanut could not care less about being changed in front of everyone.
Excited, incoherent babble serenaded the roomâthe sounds of a happy baby having the time of her life.
âThere, all clean!â Bailey said proudly, smoothing out the diaper and admiring her handiwork, âLetâs get you back to bed, cutie.â
âBu bu wa-wan play!â
âSorry, kiddo,â Bailey said with a twinge of disappointment, âAs much as Iâd love to play, itâs well past your bedtime.â
Just as Peanut was about to give up, Daddy walked over with a warm bottle of milk filled with vanilla, honey, and a dash of cinnamon.
âHow can I deny Bailey some quality time with my little Peanut after she wiped her tushie clean? Peanut, if you ask Bailey nicely, maybe sheâll let you sit on her lap and hold your baba for you while we finish the game. Would you like that?â
âYeth pwease, Dada! May I pwease Mith Baiwey? Pwetty pwease?â
âOf course, honey! Iâd love that!â
The last thing Peanut remembered was laying on Baileyâs lap suckling the warm milk from her baba, as Bailey smiled down at the baby with heavy eyes.
Her wet suckles continuing a few minutes after her eyes closed for the last time.
She didnât even stir when Daddyâs team won on a last second field goal.
This caption was written withâand of course featuresâthe amazingly talented @prettymuchpottytrained02. Such a cutie.
A mobile slowly spins above her crib, barely visible in the soft, warm glow of the nightlight.
Dreamy, delicate melodies of long-forgotten nursery rhymes drift from the antique music box in the corner of the nursery.
None of this made any difference to the sole occupant of the nursery.
Peanut glared at the mobile, her binkie bobbing furiously in her mouth. She dramatically kicked off her blankets in a fit of frustration at the muffled cheers invading her nursery.
It wasnât fair!
All she wanted was to stay up one nightâone night!âpast her bedtime to watch the big football game with Daddy and his friends!
It was her team, too! Daddy knew how excited she was about the game.
She ruminated about how she used every tool in her arsenal to soften Daddy up over the last week. How she went to bed every night without a fuss. Gave him her best puppy-dog eyes each morning when she lay in his lap, suckling her baba.
She even picked up all the toys scattered around her nursery without Daddy asking! Daddyâs perfect angel.
Just to end up in her crib at bedtime.
Another chorus of cheers interrupted the tranquility of her nursery. She kicked her legs at the injustice of it all.
The sudden movement, so similar to the bicycle kicks Daddy insists on whenever her tummy is full of bubbles, results in a stream of toots.
âHmpff,â she pouted, even angrier that her outburst backfired.
She folded her arms, resigned to her fate, until an idea struck her. A smirk grew behind her binky.
If Daddy wouldnât let her watch the game, then she wouldnât let him watch, either.
Grabbing the bars of her crib, she pulled herself to her knees. Her diapered bum floating just above her toes.
The perfect position to fill her diaper.
A series of tiny grunts and ragged breaths filled the room as she pushed, determined to load her diaper.
Her only progress after a few minutes of effort was a single, terrifying toot so loud it must have been heard in the other room.
Red-faced, frustrated, and out of breath, she throws herself flat on her back. Why was it so hard? She never has to try! Most of the time, she doesnât know sheâs pooping until her diaper gets heavy!
Lost in thought, she unconsciously fiddles with her feet, pulling them close to her face.
Suddenly, everyone in the other room cheers in unison, startling her. Before Peanut can react, her diaper crinkles softly as it expands. She reflexively grunts as her body takes over, pushing more mess into her diaper.
Peanut pulls her feet closer, unaware sheâs loading her diaper.
By the time she realizes sheâs pooping, sheâs almost done. Her diaper was already bulging to accommodate its burden. She giggles in between grunts.
Mission accomplished.
She sits up, giggling harder as the mess spreads even more. Usually, sheâd avoid mushing her mess, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
As she reaches for the latch to escape her crib, she notices her favorite stuffie watching her.
Judging her.
âDonâ judth me, Dithon,â she lisps through her paci, âDada thtarted it!â
The enormity of Peanutâs mess is immediately obvious the moment she steps out of her crib; her diaper droops dangerously as she waddles to the door. Her shirt is far too short to cover her diaper.
Had she been less stubborn she would at least have the onesie Daddy got her for the game to support and concealâwell, at least coverâher diaper.
But no, she had to be fussy and reject it.
It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright light, though she waddles on anyway, making her way to noise down the hall, thankful it drowned out her crinkles.
She reaches the end of the hallway, heart beating fast. Not only is she not supposed to be out of bed, she isnât particularly keen on being seen in a diaper this messy.
No matter how many times sheâs been around Daddyâs friends, how many times heâs loudly announced she needed a change, how many times heâs marched her to another room for a diaper change, she still squirms being in a full diaper around them.
She quickly peeks around the corner to find Daddy and get his attention without his friends noticing. To her horror, Daddyâs friend Bailey happened to be looking right at her. She tried to hide, hoping she wasnât seen.
âWas that you, little one? Did I see a peeking Peanut just now?â
Peanut doesnât move. Maybe Bailey will think she was seeing things.
âI did see a peeking Peanut!â Bailey coos, finding Peanut âEverything okay, honey? Daddy put you to bed an hour ago.â
Bailey looks down at Peanutâs droopy diaper.
Unable to meet Baileyâs eyes, Peanut stares at the hardwood floor.
âOh, poor baby, I bet that diaper doesnât feel very good, huh? Come on, honey, letâs go find your Daddy.â
âMâŚm-bu,â Peanut mumbles, eyes wide at Baileyâs suggestion.
âHush, honey,â Bailey soothed the poor girl, wrapping her in a hug and gently patting her diaper, âWe need to get you out of that diaper before we have a blowout on our hands.â
A hand guides Peanut forward, out of the safety of the hallway and into the living room. She feels the eyes of everyone in the room on herâand her diaper.
âUh oh, looks like somebody needs a change!â Jane, another of Daddyâs friends, says.
âYou can say that again, poor thing. Anyone know where her Daddy is?â
âHe just went to the bathroom, Iâll go get him,â Larry says.
A silence that lasts an eternity overtakes the room. Peanut tries to avoid eye contact and pretend everyone is watching the game and not the helpless baby in a poopy diaper.
âPeanut, what are you doing out of bed, hmmm?â Daddy asks as he walks over to his little one, âI was just about to check on you.â
Peanut feels Bailey pat her diaper. âProbably has something to do with this.â
The others in the room groan at the game.
âOh, Peanut,â Daddy says distractedly, watching the game, âIâll change you after this drive, okay?â
âNo, no, no, look at her!â Bailey chastised Daddy, âHer diaper is about to fall off!â
Jane stands up, giving Daddy the evil eye before turning to Peanut, âDonât worry little one, we wonât make you wait. Where are your diapers, sweetie?â
Peanutâs binkie bobs a bit more. âUmmmâŚmânurswy.â
âHoney, youâre lucky your diaper hasnât fallen off already. That wonât make it down the hall,â Bailey insisted, âIâll get you out of that icky diaper right here, okay? Doesnât a clean diapie sound nice?â
This was not the plan.
The plan was for Daddy to change her diaper in the nurseryânot getting her diaper changed by Bailey right here in front of everyone!
Bailey kneels in front of Peanut with the diaper bag, looking deep into her eyes. âYou have nothing to be embarrassed about, little one. Itâs just a poopy diapie. Will you let us get that tushie fresh and clean?â
âM-mhm.â
Bailey tickles her tummy. âGood girl! Your Daddy always brags about his brave little Peanut.â
Somehow, despite getting her poopy diaper changed right there in front of everyone, Peanut found herself loving the attention from Jane and Bailey.
Jane made the silliest faces playing peek-a-boo while Peanut giggled in utter delight whenever Bailey blew raspberries on her tummy.
By the time Bailey carefully rolled her messy diaper into a ball and slid a fresh diaper under her, Peanut could not care less about being changed in front of everyone.
Excited, incoherent babble serenaded the roomâthe sounds of a happy baby having the time of her life.
âThere, all clean!â Bailey said proudly, smoothing out the diaper and admiring her handiwork, âLetâs get you back to bed, cutie.â
âBu bu wa-wan play!â
âSorry, kiddo,â Bailey said with a twinge of disappointment, âAs much as Iâd love to play, itâs well past your bedtime.â
Just as Peanut was about to give up, Daddy walked over with a warm bottle of milk filled with vanilla, honey, and a dash of cinnamon.
âHow can I deny Bailey some quality time with my little Peanut after she wiped her tushie clean? Peanut, if you ask Bailey nicely, maybe sheâll let you sit on her lap and hold your baba for you while we finish the game. Would you like that?â
âYeth pwease, Dada! May I pwease Mith Baiwey? Pwetty pwease?â
âOf course, honey! Iâd love that!â
The last thing Peanut remembered was laying on Baileyâs lap suckling the warm milk from her baba, as Bailey smiled down at the baby with heavy eyes.
Her wet suckles continuing a few minutes after her eyes closed for the last time.
She didnât even stir when Daddyâs team won on a last second field goal.
Forget About It! - The Potty Diary Paradox đľâđŤđŚ
I'll tell you a secret: there's a difference between being "incontinent" and being "diaper dependent."
Incontinence is a twist of fate, usually brought on by an unwelcome medical condition. There are countless guides published online that promise to take away your bladder control, but the reality is that continence is physiological, not mental. A healthy person can't train themselves to be incontinent any more than they can train themselves to stop seeing the color orange.
Diaper dependence, however, is a mental state. It's your brain's understanding of where it's okay to void. Humans didn't co-evolve with the flush toilet. Even in the 21st century, different cultures have different rules on when and where to make tinkles. For your Little, the goal is to make that: anytime and everywhere.
This can be trained.
So! You've watched your pamper packer romp around the house in just their t-shirt and diaper, crinkling to and fro, and the thought occurred: today is the day. They're just too adorable. I'll never let them wear anything else on their butt again. After the tears, the corrective spanking, and lots of cuddles, they'll come around to the idea. But in order for them to truly accept and embrace their diapers, you'll need to train them to be diaper dependent.
Enter: The Potty Diary đ
Get your leaky little lamb a cute journal (you can also install a bladder tracking app on their phone). Require your Little to record every single time they make lemonade in their diaper, and approximately how much they think they went. They should try to pee at least once every 30 minutes; no less than once an hour. If they wake up to flood their padding in the middle of the night, that should be recorded, too.
"But Miss Natalie," you say. "I'm trying to make my Little forget about their pee-pees! Now they'll be thinking about their bladder more than ever!"
True! And your kiddo will be hyper-aware of how much they're soaking those pampers for a while. But ask any incontinent person who's had to keep a bladder diary for their doctor: it's a lot of work and it's very annoying.
That's why it's going to be such a relief when, after a couple of months, you tell your Little:
No More Potty Diary! đ
What a relief! They can finally go tinkles without having to record it for you! They can saturate their bedtime diaper and just fall right back asleep! All of the RAM their tiny little brains were devoting to their bladder has been freed up for more important matters. And they'll find, to their amazement (and your amusement), that peeing without thinking has become a reward.
No, they won't lose their ability to hold it if they're concentrating. They won't stop feeling the urge to go. But you just tricked their brains into realizing that it's too much work to think about their bladder. They'll start having little accidents when they're distracted. They won't remember how many times they peed. And the idea of going a day without diapers will start making them very, very nervous.
It's not about losing control. It's about losing your mind đ
Reposted from my deleted prettyprettypaci2 blog. This is my content.
My first attempt writing a long-ish caption. Third-person narration is not my writing strong suit. Iâd love some feedback and to know if this is something you enjoyed reading and would like to see more of.
Late afternoon sun trickled in through the blinds. The blissfully content girl had her thumb nestled deep between those plump, rosy lips, cheeks gently hollowing with each rhythmic suckle. Her eyes dreamy and distant, lashes fluttering like tiny butterfly wings against pale flushed skin.
The thick padding between her thighs swells visibly beneath the snapped crotch, the once-white diaper now sporting a warm, unmistakable yellow tinge across the front. It sags ever so slightly, heavy and full from that innocent, unthinking flood, the bulk pushing her legs apart in the most adorably helpless way.
But sheâs utterly lost in her infantile daze, no trace of big-girl worry anywhere on that peaceful face. With each thumb-suckling motion drifting her further into little space while the soggy evidence of her accident hugs her like a warm secret.
And in that quiet, honeyed light, no trying, no knowing, no thinking. Only being, thumb-kissed, warmth-wrapped, and utterly his.
She enjoys this more than you could ever hope to understand. Being in this position, towering over you mid-diaper change, looking deep into your eyes, seeingâfeelingâyour insatiable desire for her mixed with your humiliation, nourishes her. She never feels more powerfully feminine than she does in this position.
Basking in the wreckage of your shattered masculinity.
It's why she will never lock you away in chastity. She wants to see you get hard, proof of your futile desire for her. To her, locking it up would make it a thing. She gets far more enjoyment from ignoring it. Treating itâand youâas a testament to your lost masculinity.
It is nothing but a relic of the past, signifying nothing.
Which is why she never mentions it when she's changing you. Why she will never treat it like itâs anything that signifies sex or manhood. No, she just goes on with the change, wiping it, powdering it, without so much as a second thought.
She does it because it reinforces your place in her life.
She treats you no different than she would a toddler. In doing so, she emphasizes that you are no longer a sexual being. Not to her, not to yourself, not to anyone. You are just a diaper boy, nothing more.
If you asked me a year ago, Iâd have said that wearing diapers was the ultimate sign of babyhood.
Itâs not.
Donât get me wrong, diapers are inextricably intertwined with babyhood, but theyâre not the defining aspect of babyhood.
Trust me, I know.
If she taught me anything over the past year, itâs that diapers are only the symbol of babyhood. Believe me, Iâve filled enough diapers this year to become an unwilling expert on the subject.
Itâs not the diapersâitâs the utter lack of privacy and autonomy.
Yes, I wear diapers. And yes, she checks and changes them. Thatâs infantilizing enough.
But thatâs nowhere near the worst part.
Do you know what itâs like to have absolutely no privacy? Knowing your own diaper is under her control?
Of course you donât. Youâre an adult. Adults take the right to privacy for granted.
How could you possibly understand?
Nobody randomly stops you and slides their hand into your shorts to check your diaper without asking. Nobody pulls down your pants and exposes your mess without you having any say.
Babies have no expectation of privacy.
And neither do I.
Look around. Does this look like a private place to you? Would you feel comfortable messing your diaper right here?
Yet, look at the way sheâs smiling at me, patiently waiting for me to finish loading my diaper like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
She doesnât think someone like meâa baby in her eyesâhas any use for privacy. She expects me to squat down and fill my diaper whenever and wherever the urge strikes.
Like right here, in this busy hallway full of people.
Real adults do their business in privateânobody ever would watch you do thisâlet alone smile as they watched. You get the dignity of handling it yourself.
Everything I do is public. Even if Iâm fortunate enough to mess my diaper in a private place, itâs not like I get to hide what I did.
Nope, sheâll push me down and open up my diaper anyway, exposing my shame. I canât run. I canât hide. She is in control.
There is no dignity in this situation.
If you asked her, sheâd tell you itâs perfectly natural, babies canât help making poopoos when they have an icky tummy.
And yes, sheâd use those same horrible, infantile words. Do you really think she uses adult language when she talks to me?
Get real.
I mean, look at her! Thatâs how a mother looks at their toddler when they know theyâre about to be on diaper duty.
Sheâs my wife!
But it doesnât matter anymore. Not when youâre in diapers. Sheâs way closer to a caregiver than a lover.
And I donât want to talk about that right now. I have enough on my mind right now.
As soon as sheâs satisfied Iâm done pushing, sheâll check my diaper as publicly as this mess. Sheâll say something in that same sickly sweet, babyish voice and march me to the nearest womenâs bathroom to change me.
âGood job, kiddo! Did you push all that icky poopoo into your diapie? Yes you did! Turn around, Mommy has to check on her mush tush.â
See?
Savor your privacy. You have no idea how terrible it is without it.
