Mommys Boy🙊

25 abdl🍼🍼👶🏻 🚫no minors🚫i amanout 1-2 in little space this is my blog of the things i like! I amLooking for a mommy and friends

[opapaizinho]

Good thing you got home. Your teacher just called to tell about your accident.

You say it's just a difficult phase, that you were dumped, that school is too hard... well, I'm done with your excuses and with washing wet sheets.

It's back in diapers for you, kid.

[pampersboy678]

[girliy-pop]

I made that drawing ages ago. I haven’t been wearing lately, but the last couple of nights I’ve dreamt I was.

[little-neir]

Yo... the second one. The bum rub, from THE FRONT??? Love that. Not usually one to get phased by this stuff but woooowww.... that one sent me. Honest, that happened to me? I'd melt into a puddle.

[littlediaperedworld]

mommy likes doing the last 2

[fairiesthesecond]

She’s finally finished with her meeting and rolls her chair back from her desk. He hears her soft footsteps coming over to his corner but doesn’t take his eyes off his book.

“Are you all finished?” She kneels down behind him, folded legs on either side of him, and reaches around to gently press her hand against the front of his diaper through his pants.

He gets squirmy, still trying to pretend that he’s reading even as he rocks from side to side.

“You don’t need to get shy. It’s just me. Did you finish going in your diaper? Can we get you back in undies now?”

“Nobody heard on your meeting, right? When I didn’t know you weren’t muted at first and I said ‘Mom, I need…’”

“No, buddy. I don’t think anybody heard you tell me you needed me to help you put a diaper on so you could poop.”

He puts his face in his hands and she stands up. “Come on, you can get up. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

He pouts as she pulls him to his feet and away from his book.

“And you don’t need to whine. You’re almost all the way big, remember? You don’t need to whine or carry on. You even wear underwear most of the time now. You just need to use diapers for pooping still and we’re working on that.”

She doesn’t bring up the fact that he needs “lap time” every evening and usually sucks his thumb while he sits on her lap with his bedtime pull-up on, or that he calls her Mom or Mommy all the time, or that he eats off of sectioned plates and something spills cereal and goldfish crackers on the floor, or that he had a big accident in his pants last week, or that he leaks in bed sometimes, or that…

[ameliemommy]

Lights, Camera, Diaper

The email had been sitting in your inbox for three days. "Urgent Call: Pampers Men Commercial Casting." You’d laughed when Sarah first showed it to you, tossing your phone onto the couch like it was a joke. "Yeah, right. Like I’d ever do that." But she’d just smirked, her fingers already tapping away on her laptop, pulling up the details. "Babe, it’s five grand for a day’s work. And you’d be perfect for it."

You’d rolled your eyes. "Perfect for a diaper commercial? Really?"

Sarah had just grinned. "You’re hot, you’re confident, and you’ve got that whole ‘all-American jock’ thing going on. They want someone who looks like he’s never worn a diaper. Irony sells, baby."

You’d scoffed, but the number had stuck in your head. Five thousand dollars. That was rent for two months. A new set of weights for your home gym. A weekend in Vegas with the guys. And all you had to do was… this.

Now, standing under the blinding studio lights, the reality of it hits you like a sack of bricks. The diaper is thicker than you expected. Not just a thin pad, but a full, crinkling monstrosity that swallows your ass whole. The tape is snug, the leg holes tight around your thighs, and every time you shift, the plastic rustles like a damn announcement: "Look at me. I’m wearing a diaper."

The set is designed to look like a cozy living room, plush couch, a coffee table with a half-empty mug, a TV playing some generic sitcom in the background. But the real focus is the oversized baby blanket spread out on the floor, right in the center of the shot. Your spot. Your throne.

Sarah sits in a director’s chair, her legs crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. She’s loving this. You can tell. She’s the one who pushed for you to take the job, who drove you here this morning, who whispered "You’re gonna do great, baby" as they led you to wardrobe. And now she’s watching you like this is the most entertaining thing she’s ever seen.

The director, a no-nonsense woman in her fifties named Linda, claps her hands. "Alright, Jake. Let’s get you in position. We’re going for ‘relaxed.’ Like you’re at home, just lounging in your diaper. Natural. Comfortable."

You force a laugh. "Yeah, because that’s exactly how I spend my Sundays."

Linda doesn’t even crack a smile. "Just follow the script. You’ll do fine."

The script. Right. The script that involves you sitting on a blanket, bouncing your knees, and pretending like this is normal. Like any red-blooded American guy would choose to spend his afternoon in a diaper, sipping juice from a sippy cup.

The camera starts rolling. The voiceover begins, smooth and reassuring: "Tired of accidents getting in the way of your life? Pampers for Men: because even the strongest guys need a little extra protection."

You’re supposed to react—laugh, look embarrassed, then embrace it. So you do. You force a grin, shifting your weight from foot to foot, letting the diaper crinkle loudly under your shorts. The sound echoes in the studio, and you can feel the crew’s eyes on you. A few of them are trying not to laugh. One guy in the back is outright smirking.

"Cut!" Linda calls. "Jake, you look like you’re about to bolt for the door. We need happy. We need confident."

Sarah stands up, walking over to you. She presses a hand to your chest, her fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. "Babe, you’re tensing up. Relax. It’s just a diaper." She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one."

You raise an eyebrow. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

She smirks. "Haven’t you noticed? The world’s changing. Guys are starting to… accept things." She gestures vaguely around the studio. "Hell, I bet half the women here have a boyfriend or a husband who wears at least pull-ups now. It’s trendy."

You scoff. "Trendy? Since when?"

"Since now," she says, poking your chest. "Since companies realized there’s a market for it. Since women realized they like taking care of their men. Since guys like you realized it’s easier to just… let go."

You open your mouth to argue, but Linda cuts in. "Jake, we’re rolling again. This time, commit."

The second take is worse.

This time, they want you to sit. Not just stand there, shifting uncomfortably, but plop your ass down on that ridiculous blanket, legs splayed, the diaper on full display. You hesitate, but the script says to do it, so you lower yourself down, the padding squishing beneath you. The crinkle is deafening. The crew laughs. Your face burns.

The voiceover continues, "Pampers for Men: because real strength is knowing when to let go."

And then… it happens.

A warmth spreads through the padding, slow and inevitable. You freeze. No. No, no, no. But it’s too late. The wetness indicators darken, the heat seeping into the gel core, the diaper swelling even more between your legs. The crew erupts into applause. Linda grins. "Perfect! That’s the shot!"

Sarah claps, her laughter ringing out. "Oh my god, Jake, you actually peed!" Her voice is a mix of delight and teasing, and you can feel your face turning red.

The camera stops rolling, but the damage is done. The diaper is heavy, sagging with the proof of your humiliation. And the worst part? No one seems shocked. No one’s horrified. If anything, they’re impressed.

Linda steps forward, adjusting your shirt. "That was exactly what we needed. Authentic. Relatable." She pats your shoulder. "You’re a natural, Jake."

Sarah crouches in front of you, her eyes sparkling. She presses a hand to your soaked diaper, her fingers tracing the swollen padding. "See? Not so bad, is it?" Her voice is soft, almost proud. "You look so cute like this. I bet you could get used to it."

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat. Because as you sit there, dripping, the weight of the diaper between your legs doesn’t feel wrong. It feels… right. The warmth, the security, the way Sarah’s looking at you like you’re hers… it’s intoxicating.

Lunch break. You’re still in the diaper, For continuity," Linda had said, sitting on a folding chair in the corner of the studio, a sandwich in one hand, a juice box in the other. The crew is scattered around, some eating, some scrolling on their phones. A few of them keep glancing your way, smirking.

Sarah plops down next to you, stealing a fry from your plate. "So. What do you think?"

You take a bite of your sandwich, chewing slowly. "I think I just made a fool of myself in front of a room full of strangers."

She laughs. "You loved it."

"I did not."

"Liar." She nudges your shoulder. "You felt it. The way it… fits." She gestures to your lap. "Admit it. It’s nice. Not having to worry about anything."

You want to argue, but the truth is, she’s not wrong. There’s something… freeing about it. No pressure. No expectations. Just the thick padding, the snug fit, the way it holds you.

A guy from the lighting team walks by, nodding at you. "Nice work, man. My brother wears ‘em. Says it’s the best decision he ever made."

You blink. "Your… brother?"

He shrugs. "Yeah. Started with pull-ups, then moved to full diapers. His girlfriend loves it. Says he’s way more relaxed now." He grins. "Plus, no more laundry stains, you know?"

You stare at him, your sandwich forgotten in your hand. "That’s… a thing?"

"Oh yeah," he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You’d be surprised how many guys are switching over. One at a time, you know? Like a… I dunno, a movement."

Sarah smirks. "Told you."

The afternoon drags on. More takes. More sitting. More crinkling. By the fifth hour, you’ve stopped caring about the crew’s laughter. You’ve stopped caring about the camera. You’ve even stopped caring about the fact that you’re soaking wet and have been for most of the day.

Because here’s the thing: It feels good.

Not just the diaper, the attention. The way Sarah keeps touching you, adjusting your shirt, whispering in your ear. The way Linda keeps praising you, telling you you’re nailing it. The way the crew has gone from smirking at you to… respecting you. Like you’re part of some exclusive club.

By the final take, you’re bouncing on the blanket, laughing as the voiceover plays for the hundredth time. "Pampers for Men: because even the strongest guys need a little extra protection." You’re not acting anymore. You’re living it.

And when Linda finally calls "That’s a wrap!" and the crew starts packing up, you don’t move. You just sit there, the wet diaper clinging to you, the blanket beneath you, the rightness of it all settling into your bones.

Sarah kneels in front of you, her hands on your knees. "So… what do you think? Ready to sign a permanent contract?"

You look down at yourself, the soaked padding, the way it clings to you, the way it shouldn’t feel so good.

This isn’t just a commercial.

This is you now.

[mommygwenbabybruce]

What little diapered cucks get - marked beta safe 😘🍼💦

Link in bio 🤍

[enfanceoblige]

babies are simple.

everything is new to a baby. sights, sounds, textures.

the simplest things amaze and delight a baby. the feeling of its toys in its hands, the meaningless hum of grown-ups' voices around it, the soft headpats from its mommy.

you resisted, at first.

you might have enjoyed being treated like a baby, but you were still an adult in the end! your world was too complex, your brain too developed, your awareness too sharp to really engage with anything truly for babies and babies alone.

so you kept playing your big kid games, and watching your big kid shows, and using your big kid words.

you'd be her little one, but apart from the infantile accessories and playful teasing, you were much like any other adult.

mindfulness training, she called it. mommy just wanted to help you with your anxiety, so you could learn to recenter when things got too much.

when your mind started to race, you learned to focus on the moment.

the feeling of the ground under your feet.

the quiet nuknuk of your pacifier.

the gentle trickle of warmth into your diaper.

you'd get anxious a lot, so you put mommy's lessons to good use.

it happened more and more. you'd start getting stressed, and then focus on these comforting sensations until your worries floated away. you were becoming so much calmer, so much more content.

you had to keep asking mommy to pause your shows. it was hard to pay attention to the plot when the soft stuffie in your arms was the center of your attention. you'd have to calm down first, then resume.

after a while, you realized how long it would take you to finish just one episode. so long that you'd start forgetting what had happened before the pause, and you'd have to rewind, which would make it take even longer...

you complained about this to mommy, and she just nodded thoughtfully. maybe, she said, you just needed something a little easier to follow.

you reluctantly agreed that made sense.

so mommy helped.

when you needed to pause a show too much, she'd just stop it and change to something simpler.

when you got overwhelmed by your games, she'd hand you a toy of some kind and help you play.

when you got frustrated at how you stumbled over words trying to solidify your thoughts, she'd suggest something more straightforward to say.

and it kept happening. and it helped.

you don't get nearly so anxious anymore. having to stop and breathe still happens, like when you recognize one of the grown-ups' faces or when someone tries to show you something too complicated. but your world is so much quieter now.

the way the blocks feel in your hands.

the comforting hum of mommy's voice.

the way your diaper sags after you wet it.

these things take all your attention now. these are your world. these are the only ripples on the calm, empty pond of your mind.

babies are simple, and so are you.

inspired by @darlinglilmia

[babypudge]

It's bad enough that the babysitter never came back with the post-bedtime story bottle refill they promised, opting instead to make out with their boyfriend and leaving your nursery lights on in the process...

But now, the adults are finally home and they're already at it too. You're just hoping they decide to turn on the baby monitor for foreplay...

Otherwise, you won't be getting lights out until the early AM diaper check Daddy normally gives you - almost always "accidentally" waking you up in the process and gloating about the fact that his body woke him up to use the potty, while proudly confirming that you've once again helplessly soaked your Pampers in your sleep.

[princess-lizzy]

"I'm an adult, I can do what I want!" I say, holding my plushie and sucking my paci and smelling just a little bit like pee

[missebabysitter]

oh my goodness, loooook how cute you are! 🤩

you waddle up to Miss E wearing your prettiest princess dress! your diapers peak out from underneath, showing everyone at the bbq just how soggy you can get! 😘🤭

i knew it would fit you! what? just because you’re a “grown up” at the office doesn’t mean you are anywhere else! even the company picnic! 😏😂

now come with Miss E. i’ve set up our picnic blanket near your secretary. i’m sure she’ll just love your pretty dress! 😍

feat: Ashly Anderson

[boobsuberalles]

[thediaperedathlete]

Come on baby, no one is even here. Take your pants off and show me that cute little pamper.

Wouldn’t it feel soooo good to just be a good boy for Mommy? If showing your diaper is embarrassing, just wait till you need to be changed and your little peepee is exposed.

[hbombcollector]

[thediaperedathlete]

I know, so glad to finally meet you. I hope you’re comfortable. It can be awkward meeting my diaper boys in real life.

No not for me. I love this. You’re the one who’s going to get changed on the ladies room floor after we eat.

I know I said we’d go somewhere private. But I lied. If you’re going to be my baby you have to accept you have no control over who sees your diaper or where and when you get changed.

Well you could always leave, and never talk to me again. But you won’t. I don’t hide who I am, and I won’t hide who you are either. All my friends will know. And if you bring me near your friends or family, I won’t change how I act around you.

Meaning I won’t hesitate to diaper check you in front of anyone. Or baby talk you, or even change you. And I know you, I bet you’re scared but you have a little baby boner in your diaper right now don’t you?

So cute, I can’t wait to see it. Now drink this iced tea. It’s loaded with laxatives. We’re going to have so much fun today.

[kenziesnursery-deactivated20250]

One of the Littles that I babysit was given a pack of Pull-ups for Christmas, to be used whenever he wanted. He could have used them for when he needed to be discreet in public, but he chose to use them instead to prove to his Mommy that he didn’t need to be in diapers anymore. This soaked Pull-up was his last chance. Maybe his Mommy will get him another pack for Christmas next year and he can try again… until then, it’s another year of big, crinkly diapers for him.🤭

[selenasgirltiffany21]

[sissybabyellabella]

EVERYDAY

[idranktoomuchwater]

Oh my god, are you serious? Mom just told me she had to put you back in diapers because you wet the bed again? For the second time this week? I can't believe this. Look at you, standing there with that stupid plastic crinkle every time you move. You're supposed to be older than me, and yet here you are, padded up like a toddler who can't control their own bladder. Wait until my friends hear about this, they're going to die laughing. How does it feel knowing you’ll be sleeping in Pampers tonight while I'm in my big girl bed? Maybe we should get you a pacifier too, since you clearly can't handle being a grown-up.

Thanks for reading! :D :D :D You can see more of my captions here! https://captionmyfantasy.com/user/DiaperMe

[coralgardendreamertaco-blog]

[ameliemommy]

Playpen Punishment

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.