Lost My Control

A kinky diaper fantasy blog. NSFW 18+

[lilbabybren]

Sometimes it’s fun to pretend to be a brat, but honestly? YES, I agree I’m a wimpy baby cuck and my baby dick needs to be locked up and in diapees to keep my stickies out of the gene pool. NO, I’m not a big boy no matter what I say. I’m not an idiot lol, I get it.

[ameliemommy]

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight, filtering through the lace curtains and casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. In the center of it all sat a figure who looked every bit the picture of defiance, at least, that’s what he thought. His white t-shirt, was hitched up just enough to show off the thick, crinkly diaper wrapped snugly around his waist. The green and blue checkered pattern, adorned with tiny cartoon animals, was impossible to miss. A pacifier dangled from his mouth, and his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, as if trying to convince himself he was in control.

He had spent the better part of the morning putting on his best “brat” act, rolling his eyes, crossing his arms, and muttering half-hearted protests about being a big boy. But the truth was, he wasn’t fooling anyone. Not the plush toys scattered across the couch, not the lamps that stood like silent witnesses, and certainly not himself. The pacifier in his mouth was proof enough. The soggy diaper? Even more so.

As he lounged there, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. The act was exhausting. Pretending he was too big, too tough, too anything but what he really was, a wimpy baby cuck who knew, deep down, that his place was exactly where he was. His baby dick, useless for anything but making messes, needed to be locked away. Not just for his own good, but for the good of everyone else. The gene pool didn’t need his stickies. That was just a fact.

He pulled the pacifier out of his mouth with a wet pop, holding it up as if inspecting it for answers. “I’m not a big boy,” he admitted to the empty room, his voice barely above a murmur. The words tasted like relief. No more pretending. No more fighting it. He was a baby, soft, needy, and utterly dependent. And honestly? That was fine. More than fine. It was right.

His fingers traced the edges of his diaper, feeling the thick padding beneath his touch. It crinkled loudly, a sound that usually made him squirm with embarrassment. But now, it felt like a comfort. A reminder. This was where he belonged. Locked up, diapered, and free from the pressure of being something he wasn’t. No more delusions of maturity. No more silly protests.

A small, almost sheepish smile tugged at his lips as he brought the pacifier back to his mouth. Maybe it was fun to pretend to be a brat sometimes. To test the waters, to see if anyone would actually buy the act. But the jig was up. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the truth.

And the truth was, he was a pathetic Pampers packer.

[ameliemommy]

The Reintroduction

The stroller’s wheels squeak softly as Mommy pushes you through the front door, the sound of laughter and chatter spilling out from the living room. You can feel the weight of the thick diaper between your legs, the plastic backing crinkling with every slight movement. The shortalls do little to hide the obvious bulge, the fabric stretched taut over the padding. You wiggle your toes, the socks on your feet feeling absurdly small, like they belong to a child rather than a grown man. But that’s what you are now, aren’t you? Mommy’s little boy, strapped into a stroller, about to be paraded in front of people who once knew you as an equal.

You grip the tray of the stroller, your fingers tracing the edge of the plastic as Mommy steers you into the room. The conversations falter for a moment, then die entirely. You can almost hear the confusion in the silence. A few of your former coworkers glance over, their expressions shifting from polite smiles to outright bewilderment. One of them, Mark, from accounting, does a double take, his beer bottle pausing halfway to his lips.

“Uh…” he starts, then stops, as if his brain can’t quite process what he’s seeing.

Mommy doesn’t miss a beat. She stops the stroller in the middle of the room, her hand resting on the back as she beams down at you. “Look who I brought!” she announces, her voice dripping with that infuriating, affectionate pride. “Say hi to everyone, sweetheart.”

You squirm, your face burning. You want to shrink into the stroller, to disappear entirely, but there’s nowhere to hide. The diaper is impossible to ignore, the bulk of it pressing against the seat, the tapes digging slightly into your hips. You can feel the warmth spreading through the padding, you’d peed a little on the way over, nerves getting the better of you, and the wetness indicators are probably already an embarrassing blue.

“Hi,” you mumble, your voice small, your eyes fixed on your lap.

Mark, your old coworker, is the first to break the silence. He tilts his head, squinting at the obvious bulge beneath your shortalls. “Dude… is he wearing a diaper?”

Mommy doesn’t hesitate. “Of course he is.”

Sarah, from HR, steps closer, her eyes flicking between Mommy and the unmistakable outline of the diaper. “No way. Seriously?”

Mommy nods, her fingers already working at the snaps of your shortalls. “Seriously.”

Jake from marketing crosses his arms, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “But does he, like… use it?”

Mommy’s grin widens as she unfastens the last snap and tugs the shortalls down your legs in one smooth motion. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your t-shirt and the thick, crinkling diaper. The room falls silent again as the full sight of you is revealed, the bulky padding, the plastic backing, the way the diaper forces your legs apart.

And then they see it.

The wetness.

The deep blue stripe on the front of the diaper is  impossible to miss, the plastic glistening slightly where the moisture has spread. Sarah’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. He peed in it.”

Mommy chuckles, bending down to pull the shortalls free and set them aside. “Told you he uses them.”

Mark lets out a disbelieving laugh, crouching down to get a better look. His fingers hover just above the diaper, as if he’s afraid to touch it. “That’s… that’s wild.”

Jake shakes his head, his grin spreading. “So he just sits there, in a wet diaper, like it’s normal?”

Mommy ruffles your hair, her touch affectionate. “It is normal. For him, anyway.” She taps the front of your diaper, the squish loud in the quiet room. “See? Nice and wet. Just like a good little boy should be.”

The room erupts into laughter, the initial shock giving way to teasing. Sarah reaches out, her fingers brushing against the plastic backing. The crinkle is deafening. “Damn. That’s thick. And wet.”

You squirm, your face burning, but you don’t protest. What’s the point? The evidence is right there, plain for everyone to see. The diaper is heavy between your legs, the wetness a constant, embarrassing reminder of your regression. But beneath the humiliation, there’s something else, something warm, something comforting. This is who you are now. Mommy’s little boy, diapered and cared for, and if that means being the center of attention for a while, so be it.

The teasing continues for what feels like an eternity. They ask if you can walk (you can, but Mommy prefers to keep you in the stroller for “safety”). They ask if you want to be like this (the answer is complicated). They ask if Mommy changes you (yes, and you hate how much you love it).

Eventually, though, the novelty wears off. The adults drift back to their conversations, work, politics, the latest sports game, leaving you and Mommy on the periphery. Mommy bends down, her face softening as she looks at you. “You doing okay, baby?”

You nod, but your throat feels tight.

She smiles, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Good boy. “Now go play.”

Play. The word makes your stomach twist, but you obey, shuffling toward the corner of the room where a few toys have been left out, a stuffed bear, a stack of blocks, a coloring book. You can feel the eyes on you as you move, the occasional snicker, the whispered comments. But you ignore them, because Mommy told you to play, and good boys listen to Mommy.

You sink down onto the floor, the diaper crinkling loudly beneath you. The blocks are in front of you, but you don’t reach for them. Instead, you sit there, your hands resting on your knees, the thickness of the diaper a constant, comforting presence.

Across the room, the party continues. Laughter, clinking glasses, the hum of adult conversation. And you? You’re just… there. A curiosity. A joke. A little boy in a diaper, left to his own devices while the grown-ups talk about grown-up things.

It’s humiliating.

It’s perfect.

Because for all the teasing, for all the stares, you know one thing for certain: you’re hers. And as long as Mommy’s happy, as long as she’s proud of her good little boy, you can endure anything.

[mellowsadistic]

Baby Fever - Part 1

A virus that causes women to manifest babyish behaviours, or even mentally regress entirely, is sweeping the world. Naomi's symptoms are very mild, but that doesn't stop her losing her status as an adult in the eyes of society.

***

“This is ridiculous!” Naomi whined. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”

“You tested positive, sweetheart,” her boyfriend said, patiently. “And your potty issues aren’t nothing. How many pairs of undies did you ruin before you agreed to start wearing your training pants?”

Naomi felt her cheeks burning. “They’re not training pants, Isaac!” she insisted, stomping her foot, suddenly very aware of the thickness of the protective underwear between her legs. “They’re just… just…”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “They’re your just-in-case pants, aren’t they? But my point is you’ve got to stop pretending that your life isn’t going to change because of this. You’ve got Baby Fever, my love.”

“But there haven’t been any mental changes!” Naomi practically shrieked. “The only thing that’s changed is that my bladder control is weaker! So why do I have to have my driving licence revoked? Why do I have to lose my job? Why do you have to be named my legal guardian? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“It’s for your own safety, Naomi,” said Isaac. “You don’t know that there won’t be any mental changes. Your little pee-pants problem could just be the start.”

“If there were going to be worse symptoms, they would’ve happened by now!” Naomi insisted, cringing at his choice of words. “I’ve been looking into it online. There are loads of women like me! We barely show any symptoms at all, and yet we’re subjected to all the same rules as a bunch of overgrown toddlers!”

“We don’t know enough about how the virus works, baby,” Isaac said, calmly. “For all we know, you could go months without any more symptoms, only to develop severe ones all at once. What if it happened while you were driving? What if you suddenly found yourself with the mind of a little girl while you were out alone in the city somewhere? Just think what might happen! Anyone could take advantage of you, sweetheart!”

“But there have been hardly any cases where a women develops more severe symptoms after three weeks!” Naomi protested.

“But there have still been some,” said Isaac. “Do you know what would happen if you ended up mentally regressed, and I’d allowed you to just wander about like you didn’t have the virus? The government would label me an irresponsible caregiver, and I’m not going to risk that. I’m not going to risk you being taken away from me and dumped in foster care. Is that what you want, Naomi? Do you want to end up in foster care?”

Naomi was blushing furiously. After a moment, she looked down at the floor and shook her head.

“Then be a good girl and do as Daddy says.”

Naomi tensed. “You’re not my Daddy,” she mumbled, still looking at her shoes.

“I am now, baby,” Isaac said firmly, “and I’m going to take care of you properly.” He took her by the hand and started leading her out of the living room.

“Where are we going?” Naomi asked, meekly.

“I ordered some new clothes for you,” said Isaac, “and they arrived today. They’re in the bedroom.”

“New clothes?” Naomi repeated, confused. Then she realised what he must mean. “No!” she squealed, trying to dig her heels into the carpet. “Please, Isaac! Please just let me just wear my normal clothes!”

“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” he said, pulling her along effortlessly. “The official guidelines state that you have to be recognisable as a virus victim. That way people will know something’s wrong if you’re by yourself. You’ve been walking around in adult clothes for far too long already, little missy.”

“But I don’t want to dress like one of them!” Naomi whined, thinking of the virus victims she sometimes saw in public, grown women dressed up in ridiculous rompers and overalls and frilly dresses. Mostly they had gormless, happy expressions on their faces, victims of the full mental regression, but others, who had merely manifested babylike behaviours that rendered them helpless and dependent, blushed with embarrassment as they toddled along in their ludicrous outfits. The idea that she should have to dress like that too, when all that was wrong with her was a little trouble holding her pee, was utterly absurd. “People will think I’m fully regressed!” Naomi complained desperately. “Isn’t it better that they know I still have my adult mind?!”

“It’s better to be safe,” said Isaac. “Plus the guidelines say it’s a good way of signalling to everyone that you’re out of your contagious phase. That will give people a lot of peace of mind if you do something babyish in front of them.”

They entered the bedroom, and Naomi saw that there were several large cardboard boxes sitting on the bed. They looked perfectly innocent, but the thought of what was inside them made her chest tighten. “Please, Isaac…” she tried again, but her boyfriend paid her no mind.

He got to work opening the boxes, and Naomi thought she might faint at the sight of the clothes he began to pull out. The fact that it was exactly what she’d expected, and feared, was no comfort to her. Childish tops and leggings, a soft pink tutu, a snug-looking pramsuit, a sparkly leotard with Disney princesses on the front, a sky blue onesie with a pattern of yellow ducks; Isaac unpacked them all and folded them neatly on the bed, ready to fill her drawers. He glanced up at her. “Start getting undressed, baby,” he said, as he folded a set of purple pyjamas covered in prancing unicorns. “I want to get you into your new clothes right away.”

Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but Isaac shot her a warning look and she closed it again. Cheeks flushed, she started to strip, removing her loose, V-neck shirt and letting it drop to the floor. She slipped off her shoes, and her jeans went next, falling to her ankles and leaving her standing in nothing but her bra and her thick pull-ups. She looked down at the clothes at her feet, wondering when she’d get to wear them again. The possibility that the answer might be never hit her suddenly like a blow to the stomach. Feeling faintly dizzy, she examined her absorbent underwear, and with a fresh rush of embarrassment, she noticed they looked a little discoloured. She squeezed her legs together experimentally. There a slight squish. When had that happened?

“Did you have an accident, baby?” Isaac asked.

Naomi froze when she realised he’d been watching her. Her face felt as red as a tomato. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, so she just nodded her head, still looking at the floor.

“Do you need changing?” he asked.

“No,” she mumbled. “It’s not much.”

“Alright, darling,” Isaac said, gently. “For now we’ll just get you dressed, okay? Arms up!”

“I know how to dress myself,” Naomi said, petulantly, raising her head to glare at her boyfriend. But she lifted up her arms all the same, allowing him to pull a long-sleeved pink top down over her head. At first she thought it wasn’t that different from the shirt she’d just removed, except for the colour, but then she spotted the writing on the front. Daddy’s Girl. “Seriously, Isaac?”

“It looks cute on you,” her boyfriend said, planting a quick kiss on her pouty red lips. Naomi felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy despite herself. Cute, as in adorable, she reminded herself. Cute, as in not sexy. She imagined trying to seduce him in any of her new clothes, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was bad enough trying to be sexy in padded underwear, let alone a romper with a pattern of rattles, baby blocks, and diaper pins.

A pair of thick white tights came next, and Isaac knelt down in front of her, allowing her to stabilise herself with her hands on his shoulders while she stepped into them. “Left foot first, that’s it. Then the right. Good girl!” He pulled them up her legs and over her bulky protective pants, but despite the tights’ thickness, they didn’t quite conceal what Naomi wore around her bottom.

Isaac stood after that, picking two pink ribbons from a pack on the bed, and started running his fingers through her luscious black hair. Naomi knew what he was planning at once. “No!” she squealed, stepping back. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping my hair down! It’s fine!”

“The government guidelines say that pigtails and pink ribbons are the best and easiest way a virus victim can be identified, Naomi,” said Isaac, firmly. “This way everyone will know you’re a Baby Fever girl.”

Naomi clenched her fists. She wanted to scream and shout, but she knew that if she did, Isaac would just say she was throwing a tantrum and suggest it was evidence of her developing virus symptoms. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, through gritted teeth.

“Good girl!” Isaac said, and he started tying her dark hair into a pair of high pigtails that dangled down to tickle her cheeks. “Perfect,” he announced, once he was finished. “Come see what you look like, baby.”

Naomi wasn’t at all keen to see her reflection, but Isaac dragged her over to the full-length mirror and stood her in front of it. “Oh my God…” she whispered when she saw herself. She looked like a giant three-year-old, complete with training pants bulging out from under her tights. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I look like a joke!”

“Don’t say that, sweetheart,” Isaac cooed, bending down to kiss her cheek. “You look adorable! You’ll be the cutest girl in your class!”

“In my… in my what?”

“Your class, baby. At your daycare.”

Naomi stared, horror struck, at her boyfriend’s face in the mirror. “At my what?!”

[boysrbabies]

Drop the attitude right now, mister. The guests are arriving any minute. Some of them are very important members of the matriarchal government, and you will be on your best behaviour. If you even think about asking to use the toilet, you'll be in serious trouble, little boy.

Yes, that means wetting and messing your diapers. I don't care how humiliating you find it. No arguing. And no fussing about being breastfed either! When you get hungry around dinnertime, I want you pawing at my chest and crying for milkies in front of everyone. Got it?

Enough. This isn't a debate. Having a properly infantilized husband is an important status symbol under the new order, and you are not going to embarrass me tonight. You will call me 'Mommy'. You will pee and poop in your diaper. You will nurse from my breasts. You will, in every way, act like a toddler for the entire evening. Or else I'll have the nanny spank you to tears every night for a week. Is that clear?

[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.

[mellowsadistic]

Stacy bent over at the waist, giving the dishwasher an extra scrub before she put it on. Always bending at the waist was one of Daddy's rules, and in another world that might have meant flashing a pair of sexy panties, or even her bare pussy. But that wasn't the life she had.

She let out a soft grunt, her posture stiffening as she pushed to fill her diaper. She kept scrubbing while she pooped her pants, trying not to draw attention to herself; she could hear Daddy moving around in the kitchen behind her, and she didn’t want to deal with his teasing comments. She might have waited for him to go back to his study, but she just couldn’t hold it any longer. She’d been trying to keep her Pampers clean all morning, and months of diaper discipline had done its job to erode her toilet training. She wasn't incontinent... yet. But she estimated she had about as much control as the average four-year-old when it came to keeping her pants clean and dry. A stream of pee soaked into the thirsty padding, joining the growing load in the seat, and for perhaps the hundredth time that day, Stacy desperately wished her boyfriend allowed her to use toilets.

Another grunt escaped her lips, despite her best efforts, and a deep, amused voice sounded from behind her. “Uh-oh..." Stacy felt her stomach sink. A hand cupped the seat of her nappy, even as it sagged lower between her legs. "Is my naughty little maid making a mess?” She could practically hear the sadistic grin on his face. “What a good girl you are,” her boyfriend cooed with sickening sweetness, "carrying on with your chores even while you make Daddy a present!”

Stacy scowled. Even if she’d wanted to take a break specifically to poop her pants, she didn’t have time! If she didn’t finish cleaning the kitchen and start preparing Daddy’s lunch soon, she’d find herself kicking and wailing over his knee. Although he loved to infantilise her as much as possible, Daddy didn’t let her laze about all day like a real baby. She was, in his words, "still a girl", and that meant doing "girl duties" like cooking and cleaning. Her pussy wettened, and she cursed herself. Why did she have to get off on this?! Why couldn't she just have been a normal girl with a normal boyfriend and normal sexual interests?

With a final grunt, she finished messing herself. Even though they were extra thick, she'd managed to fill her diaper to capacity; the tapes strained with the weight of her load as she straightened up, and Stacy felt even more conscious than usual of the poop packed against her derierre. “Daddy?” she began hesitantly. She knew it was futile, but the huge mess in her pants was so yucky that she couldn't help trying. “Please can I go change my diaper?” She didn't even care if it meant she got a spanking. She just wanted out of the horrid, smelly thing drooping between her thighs.

Her boyfriend smirked. "Of course not, silly baby. You know the rules. It's your responsibility to make sure everything in the house is clean, except your own pants. That's Daddy's job."

Stacy pouted. "Does Daddy feel like doing his job now?" she asked sulkily.

He laughed and swatted her thickly padded rear. “Not just yet, little girl. If that attitude is anything to go by, another hour or two in a stinky nappy will do you some good. Besides, you've still got your chores to finish! Better not dawdle..."

Stacy let out a whine, but she knew better than to complain. Her diapered butt belonged to Daddy, just like the rest of her, and he could do whatever he wanted with it. She knew it would please him to watch her mopping and scrubbing the floors and surfaces, making sure they were completely spotless, all while sporting a thoroughly dirty diaper. Huffing, she bent over and got back to work. Maybe if she was good, Daddy would change her after lunch...

[ameliemommy]

The Hypno Channel

The apartment was quiet except for the soft, rhythmic hum of the public access channel, its pastel colors casting a dreamy glow over the living room. Mark sat cross-legged on the floor, his pacifier bobbing slightly as he sucked, his eyes fixed on the screen. The narrator’s voice was a velvety whisper, each word wrapping around him like a warm blanket. "You are safe. You are loved. Boys don’t need to think, because Mommy thinks for you. Boys don’t need to worry, because Mommy takes care of everything. All you need to do is sit, and listen, and let Mommy make all the big, hard decisions for you..."

Lisa watched from the couch, a cup of tea steaming in her hands. She had been Mark’s caretaker for nearly two years now. She had to admit, she loved it. There was something deeply satisfying about watching a grown man melt into a state of pure, unquestioning obedience.

The TV flickered as the program transitioned to a new segment. A cheerful jingle played, and a cartoon sun beamed down on a group of giggling, diaper-clad men playing in a sandbox. The narrator’s voice returned, even sweeter this time. "Did you know that boys’ brains are just too small to understand big, grown-up things? That’s why Mommy has to make all the important choices for them! Boys can’t drive cars, because they’d get lost. Boys can’t have jobs, because they’d just forget to go. And boys can’t even use the toilet properly, which is why they all wear nice, thick diapers, just like you, sweetie!"

Mark shifted slightly, his diaper crinkling under his onesie. He didn’t seem to notice the condescension in the words. To him, it was just the truth.

Lisa took a slow sip of her tea, savoring the moment. She had read the studies, of course, the ones that "proved" men’s brains were biologically incapable of handling responsibility. The Women’s Party had funded the research themselves, and now it was broadcasted daily, drilled into the minds of every boy and man in the country. Boys are simple. Boys are helpless. Boys need Mommy.

The screen changed again, this time to a live-action segment. A stern-looking woman in a crisp blazer stood in front of a whiteboard, pointing to a list of rules written in bold, colorful letters. "Rule Number One: Boys do not speak unless spoken to. Rule Number Two: Boys do not make decisions. Rule Number Three: Boys wear diapers at all times, because accidents happen, and Mommy doesn’t want to clean up messes!" She smiled at the camera, her tone shifting to something almost maternal. "And remember, boys, if you ever feel sad or confused, that’s just your silly little brain trying to think too hard. But Mommy knows best, so just relax, and let her take care of you."

Mark let out a soft, contented sigh, his pacifier slipping slightly from his mouth. Lisa reached down and gently pushed it back in. "That’s a good boy," she cooed. He didn’t react, his attention fully absorbed by the screen.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She picked it up, her lips curling into a grin as she read the text from her sister: "Heard they’re expanding the hypno programming to prime time. About time! Now all the naughty boys who still think they’re in charge will get a nice, long dose of the truth."

Lisa typed back a quick reply: "Mark’s already halfway gone. Another few months of this, and he’ll be perfect."

She set the phone down and turned her attention back to the TV, where the program had shifted to a segment about the "science" of male regression. A woman in a lab coat stood in front of a brain scan, her expression serious. "Studies show that the male brain is hardwired for dependence. Without a strong female figure to guide them, boys simply can’t function. That’s why the Women’s Party has made it our mission to ensure every boy, from the youngest to the oldest, is properly cared for. And what’s the first step in proper care? Diapers, of course! After all, if a boy can’t even control his bladder, how can we expect him to control anything else?"

The camera panned to a group of men in a daycare setting, all dressed in pastel onesies, their diapers puffy and thick. One of them was coloring with crayons, his tongue poking out in concentration. Another was being fed from a bottle by a smiling caretaker. The narrator’s voice was warm with approval. "See how happy they are? No stress, no worries, no responsibilities. Just pure, simple joy. That’s the life every boy deserves."

Mark let out a tiny, happy gurgle, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for the screen. Lisa chuckled. "You like that, don’t you, Marky? You like seeing all the other boys being taken care of just like you."

She stood up and walked over to the TV, turning the volume up just a little. The next segment was a lullaby, sung in a soft, soothing voice. "Hush now, little boy, don’t you cry, Mommy’s here to dry your eyes. You don’t need to think, you don’t need to try, just let Mommy love you, and everything will be just fine..."

Mark’s eyelids grew heavy, his body swaying slightly to the music. Lisa knelt down beside him, running her fingers through his hair. "You’re going to love the new shows, Marky. They’re adding lullabies and bedtime stories to prime time. No more of those silly old action movies for you. No more of that nonsense about heroes and strength and all those other things boys used to pretend to be." She smiled, her voice dripping with affection. "From now on, it’s just you, your diapers, and Mommy’s love. Isn’t that nice?"

[idranktoomuchwater]

I can’t believe I’m actually telling you this… but I feel like I can trust you. Something really embarrassing just happened and my mom is being so extra about it. You know how sometimes you just… forget to flush the toilet? Like, your mind is somewhere else, thinking about stuff… or maybe someone… Anyway, I guess I’ve done it a few times this week and my mom finally lost it.

She said since I’m “forgetting” like a little kid, she’s going to treat me like one. She went to the store and came back with… pull-ups. Like, actual diapers. For me. She says I have to wear them for a whole week because “if I can’t remember to use the toilet properly, then I don’t get to use it at all.”

I’m sitting here in my room right now and she made me put one on. It’s so humiliating. They're kinda cute, to be honest. It feels so weird and thick between my legs. What if someone comes over? What if you came over and saw me like this? I think I would die.

A part of me is so mortified, but another part is kind of… curious what you would think. Would you laugh at me? Would you think I’m a total baby? Or… would it maybe turn you on a little, knowing my secret? Knowing that underneath my jeans, I’m padded up because I was too spacey to flush a toilet? My mom said from now on, whenever I need to go… I just have to go in the pull-up. No more toilet for me this week.

I don't know why this is making me think of you so much. Maybe it's because you're the only person I'd ever admit this to… or maybe it's because some twisted part of me hopes that after hearing this… maybe you'll ask for proof lol… Do you want me to send a picture???

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

[babywriter]

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Say cheese.” I said.

I couldn’t help myself, I kinda just had to take a picture because she looked so beautiful and I felt really nice. When I saw her diaper so clearly visible, I thought I needed a picture of this gorgeous woman. I don’t know if she flashed me on purpose. 

We had a nice night. We went to a restaurant and afterward she wanted to walk in the park. And when we passed by the playground, by the swings, we stopped. She ran to not quite the nearest swing and sat there, her jeans skirt riding up and showing her diaper.

I saw it was wet, but I already knew that. I had seen it earlier when she had bent upright to fix her shoe. I’m pretty sure she meant for me to see it then. When she stood back up I ran my hand over the back of her diaper and felt the wetness and I squished her butt. I knew for a fact that she liked it, because she turned to me smiling softly with a mischievous look in her eye and put her own hand on the back of my diaper.

“You’re wet.” she said in a sing-songy tone. And she slapped my butt. Then we kept on walking and saw the swings.

I just wasn’t sure if she had meant for the skirt to ride up so high or she didn’t care. I don’t think she cared. No one was around. And even when people were around she didn’t care, people knew what ABDL meant now. They weren’t shocked to see a diapered lady anymore.

Taking the picture, I did think: is she peeing herself? When I asked her right after, she smiled.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” she said as she wrapped her arms around my back. She brought me close to her. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so bad. I dug my fingers into the back of her diaper and brought her closer to me. I might’ve done it a bit too forcefully, because I heard her let out some yelp. But her embrace only became stronger. The moment her diaper touched the front of my diaper, I nearly came. It made me turn away from her for an instant, but she put her hands on my face and made me face her. I got to enjoy looking at as she prepared to go for the kiss.

And at that moment, I thought, “I wanna marry this girl."

Credit: Apple from ABDreams.com

[paddedlittleparadise]

"Puh-puh-pleeeeeze!!" It's the cry of a woman whose entire self-image is crumbling around her ears. "I- It's too much- UUnnngghhh!! I- I'm gonna-"

Helen's body is betraying her, exactly as you knew it would. She's being dragged helplessly down, forced into wave after wave of unwilling pleasure. Again and again those waves crash over her: driven by the inexorable buzzing within her cunt, and the diabolical, revolting warmth of her own urine.

That's the beauty of it, isn't it? You haven't whipped her, or harmed her, or done anything more than fasten a simple length of rope around her wrists and a cute disposable diaper around her waist.

You're killing her with kindness. Or at least, killing the prudish part of her psyche that's holding her back.

So now you begin to speak: not harshly, but in pure, saccharine-toned condescension. "Aww, Helen, what's the matter? What's too much? Surely my big, strong, sexy girlfriend can handle a teeny tiny little vibrator?"

She's gasping now, hiccuping past the mortifying arousal that is convulsing her entire being. "N-no! I- I mean, nottt- not like thiiiiiisss!" Her arms twist helplessly behind her, her lips contorting in stammering chagrin. "Not in- in a- a…" And then the word vomits forth. "A d-d-d-diaper!!!"

It's your cue. The moment of weakness you need. The first time she's allowed that mortifying word to cross her lips.

"You mean your diaper?" Your lips curl into an soft sneer. "It's your diaper, girl. And it's full of your pee. You're the one who said you had no limits. You're the one who pissed in it just now. And you're the one who's getting so fucking horny just being in it that, well…" You trail off deliciously, the sight of her heaving breasts setting a fresh stab of lust aching through your loins.

"It's exactly like you fear. You're about to do something far, far more embarrassing than just pissing yourself."

Her breath hitches. Her eyes bulge. And right before her horrified face, you hold up the remote to her vibe… slide your fingers coyly over the buttons… and switch it up to HIGH.

"N-n-n-nnoooo!!" Her wails redouble, her body arching and swaying in visceral revulsion. But the vibrator cannot be stopped, nor can her body resist. And now, over her panting moans cuts your voice: stern at last, commanding, goading her down into the sordid depths.

"Oh, yes. You're a pathetic. Disgusting. Pissy. Fucking. Slut." Every word cuts like a lash. "You're a diaper slut now. My slut. So accept it. Go on. Do it! Cum. Cum in your stupid, soggy diaper. Cum your stupid fucking brains out. 'Cause you know the truth. It feels good to cum. It's good to be a diaper slut. It's so good, so fucking good…"

"Gggnnnuuuuuhhh!!

Well…

Let's just say that given her spasming limbs and screwed-up face and ecstatic, horrified cries, I think our dear friend Helen agrees.

Image Credit: @frdiapergirlsss

If you're interested in more kinky diaper fiction, check out my Ream!

[stinky-in-pinky]

The Quickest Surrender

“Hold it right there.” Luna said as he tried to slip past.

He froze mid-step.

She already had that smug, knowing smirk plastered across her face. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked,

He gave a quick, nervous shake of his head.

“Mmm-hmm… You sure?” Luna pursed her lips together. “Because someone’s got a little waddle going on… and those cheeks are turning niicce and pink...." She gave him a slow up-and-down look. "Someone’s been busy in his pamper again, hasn’t he?”

“I’m not wet!” he blurted. “I swear, it’s dry! I haven’t gone since the last change when—”

“Uh-huh. Sure, baby.” Her smirk deepened. “I didn’t even mention being wet yet, and you jumped right to it, didn't you? Drop those pants right now so Nurse Luna can check. I think we both know what we’re going to find...”

His hands trembled as he pushed his pants down to his thighs. The heavy, sagging diaper put on full display.

“Oh my! Look how plump and swollen you are!!” Luna cooed. “I don’t even need to touch it to know it’s soaked. That little sag right there? That’s what we in the business call a heavy one. I’ve changed hundreds of these, sweetie. I can spot a thoroughly used pamper from across the room. So go ahead…keep telling me how dry you are. I’ve got all afternoon...”

He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, face burning with embarrassment. “I… I really didn’t mean to…” he mumbled weakly, hands twitching like he wanted to pull his pants back up.

Luna let out a soft, amused laugh and shook her head.

“Aww, look at you still trying so hard to be a big boy for me,” she said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “But big boys don’t walk around with warm, swollen diapers between their legs, do they? They use the potty like they’re supposed to.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air as she stared at the obvious heavy sag between his legs.

“So tell me, sweetie…you were free to use the potty whenever you needed to. No one was stopping you.” Her head tilted, eyes sparkling with amusement. “So why exactly are you standing here in a soaking wet pamper instead?”

He opened his mouth, face burning. “I… I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time…”

Luna raised an eyebrow, her smirk turning sharp and skeptical.

“Oh really? Couldn’t make it?” She tilted her head. “It’s not like the bathroom is far. It’s not like your mittens were on. The door wasn’t locked. Nothing was stopping you. You know that you're allowed to use the potty anytime you want. You don’t have to use your diapers.”

She didn't believe him for a second, her voice dripped with condescending sweetness. "So go on, keep telling me your little story."

He tried again, sounding desperate. “I-I really had to go…”

“Did you now?” Luna cooed, lifting the half-empty bottle and giving it a little shake. “I changed you into a fresh diaper just two hours ago. You barely finished half your ba-ba. And if you really needed to go that bad, you could have just used your words and told me. We could have walked you to the potty, pulled your pampers down, and let you pee-pee like any normal, potty-trained man would. I might have even held it for you.”

She leaned in slightly, eyes sparkling with mock curiosity.

“So what seems to be the problem here… hmm?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He stammered helplessly, completely lost for words, face burning with humiliation.

Luna waited a beat, clearly savoring his silence, then continued smoothly.

“The way I see it, two things could have happened here…” she held up a finger, "One: you didn’t even realize you needed to go. You just let it happen without thinking. That means the unpotty training your wife hired me for is already rewiring that brain of yours.”

She raised another finger, “Or two… you knew you had to go, but instead of using the potty you were freely allowed to use, you deliberately chose to piss all over yourself, to wet your diaper…on purpose."

She crossed her arms, eyes gleaming expectantly.

"So which one is it, baby? Was it an accident? An 'uh oh's'? Or did you decide a diaper was where you preferred to go pee-pee?”

He stammered, eyes darting away. “I… I don’t know… it wasn’t like that…”

Luna’s smirk grew wider, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“It’s only been two weeks since your wife hired me,” she said calmly, considering. “Full unpotty-training can't have taken hold yet in such a short window, even with a professional like me. Which usually means one thing…”

She let the words linger, watching his reaction.

“I’ve seen this pattern before with quite a few clients. They pout, they whine, they throw little tantrums and swear they hate their diapers.”

Luna gave a small, knowing pause.

“Some of them like the attention. Some of them like to be spanked. And some of them?” Her voice dropped into a soft, conspiratorial tone. “Some of them get so excited the second I start changing their diapers that they pop a little baybee boner right there on the table. I have to be extra careful when I wipe them so they don’t make a goo-goo mess all over the place from just the slightest touch.”

She looked him up and down slowly, her smirk deepening.

“And you… you’re starting to act just like them.”

“What?? That’s ridiculous!” he protested. “You think I actually like wearing these stupid things?!”

“That’s exactly what I think,” Luna replied calmly.

He scoffed. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” She raised an eyebrow. “So if I check inside your diaper right now… am I going to find anything a little… stiff?”

He backed up half a step, hands moving to cover himself.

“Nu-uh. No running.” Luna set the bottle and fresh diaper down. “You stay right here. Hands behind your back so I can get a proper look.”

He stood quivering as she stepped in close and groped the front of the soaked diaper firmly.

“Hmm… definitely wet,” Luna murmured, giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze. Then her voice suddenly jumped into exaggerated, mocking delight. “And… ohhh my goodness! What’s this?" she gasped, "Is that a little stiffy I feel twitching away in there?”

He let out a mortified whimper, hips twitching involuntarily under her hand.

She tugged the waistband forward and peered inside, grinning wide.

“Oh my! It sure is!!” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up with glee.

He tried to twist away, face burning crimson, but she held the diaper open with one hand and kept him in place.

“Awww! Look at you!” Luna cooed, voice thick with fake sympathy. “Soaked like a widdle tottler and your tiny tinky winky is rock hard in its pissy pamper! Throbbing and leaking like crazy…”

She gave the front another playful squeeze, watching him squirm.

“Well, well, well,” she purred. “Just like I thought. I’ve seen this exact pathetic little routine dozens of times: grown men swearing they hate their diapers right up until their tiny widdle wee-wee starts leaking in one. Pathetic… and sooo predictable.”

Luna gave the front of his soaked and tented diaper one last firm, possessive squeeze, watching him tremble. She pulled her hand back slowly, clearly savoring his humiliation, then tilted her head with that signature smug smirk.

“So tell me the truth right now, loud and clear...” she continued, voice sweet but commanding. “Are you going to keep pretending you want to be a big boy who uses the potty...or..." She leaned in closer, eyes locked on his, her face only inches away, "...are you going to admit you prefer pampers?”

He squirmed desperately, shifting his weight from foot to foot, the heavy soaked diaper crinkling loudly between his legs. His hands clenched into fists behind his back as sweat beaded on his forehead. He tried to look away, but she gently caught his chin with two fingers and turned his face back to hers.

“Say it,” she whispered, almost tenderly. “Say ‘I don’t wanna use the potty anymore, Nurse Luna. I love going in my diapers. I only want to use my pampers!’”

The silence stretched painfully long.

Luna simply waited, patient and utterly confident, still holding his chin so he couldn’t escape her gaze. The only sounds in the room were his ragged breathing and the occasional wet crinkle of his sagging pamper. His face burned crimson. His erection throbbed visibly against the front of the soaked diaper. Every second that passed made the humiliation worse. He knew she could see exactly how conflicted and excited he was.

“Go on, baby… We both know it’s true. Say it for Nurse Luna.”

He swallowed hard, lips trembling. His eyes darted around the room, desperate for any escape, but there was none. The weight of her stare, the warmth of his own mess pressing against him, and the undeniable stiffness between his legs finally broke him.

“I… I don’t wanna use the potty anymore, Nurse Luna,” he whispered, voice cracking with shame. “I love going in my diapers. I only want to use my d-d-diapers...”

Luna’s smile widened, slow and deeply satisfied.

“There we gooo!!” she said softly, almost tenderly. “That’s exactly what I thought. I’ve seen this dozens of times, you know. Grown men swearing they hate their diapers, fighting it so hard… right up until they finally admit they love using them. You’re not becoming incontinent, sweetie… you’re choosing your diapers because you like them. Perfectly capable of holding it… you just don’t want to anymore! Do you?!?"

She gave his throbbing front one last teasing pat. “And because you were so honest with me, I’m going to give you a little reward!" She said, smirking. "Part of unpotty-training is getting you properly sensitized to your diapers, teaching that little brain to associate them with pleasure. So Nurse Luna is going to be extra nice today…”

She let the words hang for a moment, watching him squirm with anticipation and lingering shame.

“So here’s how this is going to work, sweetie,” she said. “You’re gonna get down on all fours like you do for tummy time… but this time you’re going to grind that hard little thing against your warm, pissy pamper until you make a biiiigg sticky mess in it!”

He flushed deep red but didn’t argue. In fact, he was surprisingly intrigued. As he started to obey and drop to his knees, her hand pressed firmly against his chest, stopping him.

“Nu-uh uh!" She clicked her tongue, "Not until I hear you say it again, baby. Not until you admit to me exactly how much you wuv your widdle diapurrs!! Say it, baby...use your words.”

His face burned crimson. “I… I wuv my diapurrs, Nurse Luna…”

“Louder.”

“I wuv my widdle diapurrs!!!” he repeated, voice shaking.

“Good boy." She grinned, "Now get down on the floor.”

He dropped to all fours immediately and began humping frantically, grinding his rock-hard erection against the heavy, soaked, squelching padding with wild, shameless abandon. His hips bucked desperately, the loud crinkling and wet squishing sounds echoing through the living room as he rutted like a desperate animal in heat. Soft, needy whimpers and moans spilled from his mouth as he humped harder and faster, completely lost in the filthy pleasure of his own mess.

“Keep saying it, honey,” Luna cooed. “Tell me while you hump. Tell me you never want to use the potty again.”

“I love my diapers…” he gasped between frantic thrusts. “I never want to use the potty again… I only want my pampers… I love my diapers…!”

His movements grew even more frantic, hips slamming harder against the warm, heavy mess. “I love my diapers… I only want my pampers… I never want to use the potty again…!”

Any last reservations had completely vanished. He was moaning openly now, repeating the humiliating phrases over and over like a broken record while he desperately fucked his own soaked diaper.

"I never want to use the potty again! Just pampers! Just pampurrs! Just...just..."

Less than twenty seconds later his whole body locked up. His hips stuttered violently as he came. Hard. Flooding the already-soaked pamper with thick ropes of cum, groaning loudly into the carpet. Luna watched with a delighted smirk as his pathetic little spasms continued, milking out every last drop into his padding.

He collapsed forward, gasping and trembling. The heavily soaked diaper crinkled and squelched as he sluggishly rolled onto his back. His eyes fluttered open, still glassy and half-lidded, only to widen in sudden horror as he spotted Luna’s phone aimed straight at him...recording everything.

“Oh my goodness! Done already??” Luna exclaimed in exaggerated shock, pointing the camera at her own mock-surprised face. “In twenty seconds? Aww! Someone must really love their pampers, huh?”

Post-nut clarity slammed into him like a truck. The shame hit hard. He cursed himself silently for letting his horniness take over, for saying those pathetic things, for humping his own pissy diaper like a desperate addict while she watched. And now it was all on video. Proof. Irrefutable evidence for his wife.

He tried to cover himself and reach for the phone, but she smacked his hands away.

“Nu-uh! No hiding now.” She leaned over him and drew up the waistband so she could peek inside his diaper. Eyes going exaggeratedly wide.

“Wow… such a big, nasty sticky mess in there!!” she laughed softly. “Look at all that cum mixed with your pee-pee. You really creamed your pamper like a proper little diaper boy. So fast, too! How pathetic.”

She slipped two fingers into the warm, sticky interior, slowly stirring through the thick mixture of his cum and piss. When she pulled them back out they were coated in glossy, stringy goo. “Look at this…” she murmured, holding her glistening fingers up in front of his face, spreading them so he could see the stringy ropes between them. “Open up, baby. Taste what you just did.

When he hesitated, she simply pressed the sticky fingertips against his lips until he obediently opened and began to lick. The salty, warm taste of his own mess filled his mouth as she watched with smug satisfaction.

She gave the soggy, cum-filled front a patronizing pat, pressing the warm, sticky mess firmly against his sensitive skin.

“Looks like we have all the evidence we need,” Luna said with deep satisfaction. She finally lowered the phone, giving him a long, amused look as he lay there spent and humiliated. “Wait until your wife sees this. She’ll see exactly how effective I am at unpotty training you. Look at you… repeating how much you love your diapers and how you never want the potty again, while you humped your messy pamper like a desperate little bitch!”

Luna smiled down at him sweetly, clearly savoring the shame washing over his face. She casually tossed the fresh diaper onto the coffee table.

“You won’t be needing this one,” she said lightly. “You’re going to stay right there in that warm, sticky one you made for yourself.”

She pulled him up to his feet and guided him over to the blue couch. Luna sat down and firmly draped him across her lap, cradling his head in the crook of her arm. She picked up the half-empty bottle and pressed the nipple to his lips.

He squirmed and turned his head away with a weak, embarrassed whimper.

“Nu-uh,” Luna cooed. “Don’t fuss, baby. I think we're way past that by now. Do you need a little reminder of the state you’re in? Hmm?! Should we look inside your diaper again? Do you need to see what you did?”

She reached down and lifted the waistband of his heavily soiled diaper, holding it open so he could see the glistening, stringy cave of cum coating the entire inside.

He shook his head frantically, eyes wide with shame.

“Yeah… I think we do need another reminder..." Luna said with mock sympathy. She slipped her fingers back into the warm, sticky interior, scooped up a thick, glossy glob of his cum, and slowly smeared it all over the rubber nipple of the bottle until it was shiny and dripping.

She pressed the goo-coated nipple firmly against his lips.

“Open up, baby. Taste what you made while you drink your ba-ba.”

He whimpered, but didn't protest anymore, just hesitantly took the cum-crusted bottle into his mouth.

“Good boy,” she praised softly, rocking him gently as he began to suck. Her free hand slowly patted between his legs, pressing the warm, sticky mess against him with every rhythmic pat.

“Feel that?” she whispered tenderly. “That warm, sticky goo-goo you just made? That’s all yours, honey. I didn’t make you do that. You didn’t have to say those things. You didn’t have to hump your pamper like a desperate little cum-pumper…”

He let out a soft, mortified whimper around the bottle nipple, his cheeks burning hotter as he suckled. The pathetic little sound only made Luna’s smile widen.

She continued rocking him, her voice calm, soothing, and utterly condescending.

“You know...most men I get assigned to take months to become fully diaper-dependent” she cooed. “Daily hypnosis sessions, constant punishments, positive reinforcement when they use their diapers, negative reinforcement when they even think about the potty… the whole program. Some of them fight me for half a year before they finally break.”

She leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on the top of his head, her hand still patting the soggy, cum-filled front of his diaper.

“But you? You broke completely in just two weeks.” Her voice dripped with mock amazement. “So eager to give up the potty! Forever. How adorable… and how pathetic.”

He whimpered again beneath the bottle, a high, embarrassed sound that vibrated around the nipple as he nursed. Luna chuckled softly.

“So while you’re suckling your ba ba like a good widdle baybee, I want you to really let this sink in…” She rocked him a little slower, pressing the sticky mess more firmly against his skin with each pat. “I didn’t unpotty train you, sweetie… you did it to yourself. You chose your pampers over a potty. You’re going to be pee-peeing and poo-pooing in nothing else from now on. And now you get to sit in everything you chose like the good little diaper boy you wanted to be.”

Luna smiled sweetly down at him, watching his eyes glisten with shame.

“That’s right… Let allll the choices you made soak in… until your wife gets home… and you can show and tell her yourself.”

[babywriter]

“Don’t you think she looks like me? I mean, look, we have the same hair!”

As far as twenty-two-year-old Sasha was concerned, that her overalls failed to cover her diaper didn’t even register as a problem. No, she was much more concerned about what you thought of her dolly. You, twenty-two and just as overtly diapered as the girl in front of you. Because at this age, this is what hanging out with friends look like. 

You compared noses and mouths, eyes and chins, and concluded that yes they looked very similar.

“But the outfits are different.” you said.

“Yeah, but, like, we can change that!” Sasha answered. “Anyway, come on!”

She abruptly stood up and skipped her way down the garden. There was a stone path down the stretch of the house that she liked to play on. She would stand on one leg and hop from stone to stone. Very often, she would need the wall to stay upright. You followed her down the path, doing the same. You were on the stone just behind. She had a hand on the wall, the other holding her dolly, her diaper peeking from below her overalls. The jean fabric and the plastic of the diaper would rustle at every jump. She stood on one leg so adorably that you felt those little butterflies in your stomach that meant that you wanted to hold her and kiss her very much. And, yeah, you couldn’t keep yourself from looking at her butt as she was just ahead of you. That sight made you feel the impulse to lunge forward and tap the padding, but you didn’t, because you weren’t sure if she’d like that.

This actually seemed like a good private spot, between the wall and the wooden fence, to tell her all the other things you wanted to do with her. But that moment went away as she hopped to the next stone and by the time you had made up your mind, she was out on the grass and already thinking of another game to play with her friend.

Photo credit: @thesugarylittle

For more stories by me: https://reamstories.com/babywriter

[babywriter]

Jessica had just graduated from college and returned to her parent’s home on what was supposed to be a temporary basis. She found a job near where they lived and was ready to move out. Yet, something was still gnawing at her. One time, at dinner, she half-jokingly suggested that it would be great to be her parent’s baby girl again. Jessica did sorta mean it. She had fantasized about it. She definitely liked the idea. So did her mother, though she didn’t tell her daughter right away. Instead, she kept up the conversation, playfully offering hypothetical fantasy scenarios to see what her daughter was thinking. Fairly certain that her daughter did actually want this, Jessica’s mother lightheartedly told Jessica that she would be back in diapers by the week’s end. And she was. Her whole room had also been redecorated into a nursery. From then on, Jessica would exclusively be treated like a baby by her parents. At least while at home. Because Jessica did not stop working, no she led a regular life outside of home. Her babyish behavior did lead to a loss of control which meant diapers always, not just at home. 

After her morning feeding, straight from the breast, Jessica would have to put on her “big girl” plain white diaper and get dressed for work. Dressing herself was part of her routine to leave little space. That morning, from the corner of her eye, she looked in the mirror and saw this half-woman, half-baby in an oversized crib and surrounded by pastel colors.

“This is ridiculous.” she thought. Looking at herself a little longer, she also saw the seat of the diaper expanding. Somehow it both seemed more and less ridiculous. Obviously, a grown woman shouldn’t be reduced to this.  Yet, this accident proved that perhaps she wasn’t a grown woman. Jessica blushed and hung her head in shame at being proven wrong by her own body. For once, she was actually questioning her decision now that it was clear that there was no going back.

[readtheroo-m]

What's your biggest advice to people who want to commit to being as unpotty trained as you have gotten?

Oh gosh brace yourself, I know more about this than I ever thought I would.

Do be warned, though, doing all of these intentionally and consistently will genuinely impact your bladder capacity and ability to hold for long periods. In a non-sexy kinky way, at inconvenient times. Practice safe kink. If you have questions about this, feel free to ask.

Focus on that feeling right after you pee, that instinct where your muscles clench to cut off those last few drops

Once you know what that feels like, start trying to delay the cutoff as long as you can. It’s a mind-muscle thing you can figure out with some effort. That’s what most ab/dl-ers mean when they say “staying relaxed down there”

When you’re letting go, think about other things. Taxes. Sports. Groceries. Little space things. Don’t focus on going. As unintuitive as that is, it’ll teach your brain that peeing is no big deal and not worth paying attention to

If you’re in padding, intentionally go whenever you feel a tiny urge. Any urge. A tingle? Give a little (little. Don’t hurt yourself) push and feel your padding warm up. If you’re staying hydrated, you’ll probably be going every ten minutes or so

Wear large capacity diapers whenever you can, especially overnight. Knowing you won’t leak will let your unconscious mind feel safe relaxing fully.

Keep going whenever you have to, thinking about other things during, and trying to stay open after each time

Drink a decently big bottle of water right before you close your eyes at night, every night, so your body doesn’t have the chance to process all the liquids by the time you’re unconscious

If you have to go, go. If you’re not padded, take more bathroom breaks than you normally would.

Be positive about it. Waking up dry but really having to go, and then relaxing and going is still a step forward!

[paddedlittleparadise]

😊💦

[mads-the-dog]

Finally Good Enough

"That's it, baby, give Grandma a great big smile! Good boy!"

I blush as my mother-in-law coos down at me. Despite my overwhelming embarrassment, I can't help but babble and grin like an overgrown infant as the older woman frets over me.

My wife's hypnotic suggestion to "be a good baby for Grandma" is just too strong.

As my mother-in-law leans into my crib to pinch my cheek again, I feel an ominous gurgle form in my stomach. The baby part of my brain that is driving this ship giggles as a loud toot escapes my cheeks.

"Oh, is my precious little man working on a present for his Grammy?"

I want to close my eyes. I want to jump up, run away and hide. I want to be anywhere but here.

Instead, I let out a cheery wet raspberry before pulling my knees towards my chest and messily filling the seat of my pants while my wife's mother looks on, laughing.

My 'Grammy' reaches a weathered, feminine hand to my ass as I finish, squeezing the disgusting mess back against my skin.

Despite my internal mortification, outwardly I kick my legs excitedly as I babble out wordless excitement.

"That's right, sweet pea! You did make Grammy a big, stinky present, didn't you? You're such an adorable, pathetic little man! Yes you are!"

The words burn in my ears. But, her gentle, condescending tone causes my outward self to beam even more broadly.

"Well, baby, I guess there's no use in putting this off! Your Mommy would never let me babysit again if she came back to find you in a messy diaper," my mother-in-law says as she efficiently gathers changing supplies.

"You know, little one," she continues as she unsnaps the buttons on my onesie, "I never thought you were good enough for my little girl. But, now, seeing you here, like this... Well... Let's just say I am beginning to see the appeal."

[prettymuchpottytrained]

Color Me Amused

Charlie fixed her skirt, looked into the mirror, and fixed it again. 

To say Charlie was nervous would be an understatement, she was downright terrified. She couldn’t seem to push away the fluttering butterflies in her tummy or the permanent blush that crept its way onto her cheeks this morning. 

Charlie had a date. 

Her mom smiled at her daughter as she knocked on the open bedroom door, leading to the Robin Blue room that had been her daughter's since she was in diapers. 

Not that she ever left those said diapers. 

Charlie wasn’t like most 19 year old girls. She, well, she never really got the hang of the whole “potty training” thing. Her parents tried—really, they did. But, by the time their brilliant girl turned eleven, they couldn’t take the constant cleaning of yellow and brown stains from their daughters' panties, so they just gave up and accepted the fact that their girl needed the extra protection. 

She hadn't gone a day without a diaper since.

Charlie glanced at her skirt and top one last time to ensure she looked presentable and then turned to face her mother and smiled shyly. Her mom was leaning casually against her door frame that was adorned with her beloved circus stickers.

“Are you nervous?” 

Her mother asked, but Charlie shook her head confidently. Her mother just chuckled and pushed herself off the wall and crossed her arms, her facial expression becoming a bit more stern. “Now, let's have a little chat, hm?” Charlie squirmed at her mother's tone, her eyes averted from the pointed look on her face.” We don't need to talk about it Mom.” she grumbled.   

“Look, I know you're excited honey, but you still have to tell Henry when you need your diaper changed. Okay?”

Henry was the boy next door, home from college for the summer. Charlie's mother was paying him to take their daughter on a so-called “Date”—as Charlie had taken to calling it—to the amusement park. 

Charlie had never been very good at taping up her own diapers, so, when her parents or another family member or friend couldn’t do it; her parents typically had to pay someone to watch her and make sure she made it to the change table in time.

Since she never figured out how to tell she needed the potty, she never really figured out how to tell she had gone potty either. But that’s what made Henry so different. Most of the time, her parents paid one of Charlie’s friends or the nice old woman down the street, but never a boy. 

This would be Charlie’s first time alone with a boy - well - at least a boy her age, and conveniently, not also in diapers.

Charlie swatted her mother's hand away as she lifted her perfectly fixed skirt to check the fresh elephant-themed diaper her mother just taped her into. “I know, Mom! Can you please just drop it?” She asks defensively. Her mother backs off and puts her hands in the air as a sign of surrender. Just about that time the door rang.

Charlie all but jumped down the stairs, her mother right on her heels. Charlie bounced from foot to foot in anticipation as she stood behind her dad who opened the door. The door opened, revealing the cute twenty-year-old neighbor with a friendly grin on his face.

“Hello, Mister Dawson!” he said kindly, outstretching his hand for the other man to shake. Mr. Dawson smiled and shook his outstretched hand firmly. 

“Ah, Henry! Nice to see you again, how's College?” The two exchange casual conversation before Charlie's Mother cuts in. 

“Hello Henry, are you here for Charlie?” She inquires, to which the boy nods. 

‘Yes ma’am”

Charlie's mother smiles and turns back, outstretching her hand to signal her daughter to come forward. Charlie sheepishly steps into Henry's line of sight and he smiles. She's just as pretty as he remembers.

Too bad she still poops her pants.

“Hey Kiddo! Ready for the Park today?” Henry says in a sickly sweet tone as if speaking to a shy toddler. 

Charlie, having always been spoken to like that, smiles and nods before stepping out onto the porch with Henry. 

“Okay! Wave bye to your parents, and let's hit the road!” Henry says, offering Charlie his arm, which she blushingly takes.

“Oh! Henry, here's her diaper bag!” Her dad shouts, running out to meet them as they load up the car. Charlie blushes as her diaper bag is handed off from one caregiver to the next before saying their final goodbyes and heading off to their fun-filled “date”. 

❤️ • 🎠 • ❤️

Charlie bounded off the ride giggling uncontrollably as Henry followed close behind her laughing just as hard. Despite the diapers, and the occasional tinkle smell that came from her, Charlie was actually quite fun; making this so much better than the other babysitting gigs he had had in the past. 

As they made their way back to the main walkway, Henry caught Charlie's arm and pulled her off to the side, excluding them from the rest of the people deboarding the ride. Charlie blushed as she was pulled in close to Henry, his breath hot on her cheek. He looked sweetly into her eyes, brushing her hair out of her face gently. Was he going to kiss her? Charlie’s eyes fluttered close, her lips pursing slightly to prepare for the landing of Henry’s own butter soft looking lips. 

“How's that diaper holding up Kiddo? You've had a lot of soda.”

Moment ruined. 

Charlie's cheeks turn a comical circus red as Henry lifts the front of her skirt and squeezes the front of her soggy diaper, inspecting it intently. “Hm, looks like we've got time for one more ride before I change you,” he says, speaking more to himself than the girl he just checked. 

To which Charlie let out a meek little “Oh.” He glances up, smile fading a bit as he notices Charlie's dejected look. She didn't seriously think he was going to kiss her, right? She’s basically a toddler for crying out loud! That can’t be appropriate.

“And perhaps a Cotton Candy,” Henry smiles cheekily, “What do you say?”

Charlie smiles and nods quickly. And Henry finds himself feeling a bit relieved he hadn’t crushed the poor girl’s spirits; it’s not that she wasn’t pretty,and she was super cool, but he’d seen her poop her pants once before while playing in the sprinklers out front with the other children last summer. And you don’t really want to date the girl who was the only kid that needed laying down and changing.

Henry takes her hand and leads Charlie to the Cotton Candy stand as she toddles closely behind him, trying her best not to stumble due to the sagging diaper between her legs. They make their way up to the register and Henry promptly orders and pays for a Cotton Candy with the money Charlie's parents had given him to “Treat” their little pamper princess.  

Charlie hastily gobbles up the sugary sweet treat, her fingers and cheeks now sticky from the yummy endeavor. The tiniest bit of drool glistening at the corner of her pink lips. 

Henry cringes slightly, he had always hated mess. Charlie is far too engrossed in the task of licking her dirty fingers clean to notice Henry rummaging around her diaper bag, pulling out a diaper in order to get to her baby wipes. He takes a wipe from the pack and turns towards his diapered charge. 

“Here we go baby,” Henry says focusing on tidying up Charlie who matches her pink sweet. 

He called her baby!

Maybe they did have a small spark, she thinks as he finishes cleaning her up and throwing away their trash. 

Henry makes his way back over to Charlie who was sitting prettily on the bench, her diaper peeking out between her legs, there was a slight yellow shade to it, but Henry had promised her one last ride before a stop to the change station, and Henry was never one to break a promise.  

“Okay Kiddo, one more ride before we take an adventure to the change table and perhaps the back of Henry's car for a nap!” Henry claps his hands, rubbing them together as he proceeds to help the girl up. 

“Can we go on the Carousel!” Charlie chants happily, to which Henry nods. The carousel shouldn't be too exciting, so her diaper should be fine.

Or so he thought. 

As they stood in the line for the childish ride, Charlie felt a horrible feeling in her tummy, whimpering slightly, but the feeling quickly passed and she returned to her giddy self. 

As they neared their turn, her tummy kept feeling waves of aches and pains, causing her to shift a bit uncomfortably. Henry glanced at her quisically, but before he could open his mouth and ask her what was up; she was already answering his question.  

Charlie grunted, her stance subtly turning into a half squat as a small toot erupted from her backside, causing the people behind her to turn their attention to the overgrown toddler Henry was standing beside, finally making him blush with embarrassment for the first time on this trip. Unlike Charlie—whose face was now red from strain. 

Charlie was pooping her diaper in front of at least thirty people. 

Her little butt shaked slightly as she continued to push. Despite the concentrated look on her face, her eyes glossed over as she seemed totally unphased and unaware of her actions. 

Her diaper now drooped comically low below her skirt. Henry had to cover his mouth to stop from laughing like the people around them. The smell wafted over Henry—it took everything in him to not gag;

She smelt just as stinky as the other kids he babysat. 

The people behind her now waved their hands in front of their faces, disturbed by the infantile smell coming from the nineteen year old.

As Charlie finished up, Henry watched the realization slowly clink and clunk its way through her brain. 

Did she really not realize what she was doing?

Then it hits him again like a circus car. Of course she’s not aware—she’s not potty trained! She’s just like any other baby, peeing and pooping the moment she feels and not thinking twice about it. 

Charlie slowly stood back up to a normal stance, her hand slowly making its way to the back of her diaper, not evening having to lift her skirt in order to feel the crinkly bulge she had just left in its seat. ‘No, surely she hadn’t just pooped!’ She thinks mortified at the prospect.

“Next!” 

The ride conductor shouted ushering the line forward. Henry is promptly swept away with the rest of the line before he can swipe up Charlie and take her to the change station. 

“W-wait!” 

Charlie starts to protest, but she's cut off by the ride conductor and a swell of people pushing her toward the carousel. She stumbled clumsily, the sag of her diaper making it impossible to walk even remotely like an adult she felt she was at the beginning of this “date”. 

Charlie wanted to cry, her cooling messy becoming uncomfy as her eyes filled with tears as she noticed Henry's slight look of disgust. 

But worst of all, he looked…amused.

“Alright, stinker butt, up you go!”

He laughs as he makes his way over to her, scooping her up and gagging slightly as he lifts Charlie up and sits her on the back of a porcelain horse—the only porcelain her butt has probably ever sat on, Henry muses. 

Charlie bursts into tears as the mess in her diaper mushes against her butt, surely Henry wasn’t serious! Surely he’d change her diaper right away so they could go back to their fun grown up date.

But just like a baby, Henry fully intended to change her when it was most convenient.

“Oh, don't fuss little one! Henry promised you one last ride after all,” he chuckles condescendingly before popping Charlie's pacifier in her mouth which he had promptly dug through her diaper bag to get. This of course gets a giggle from the audience around them.

Charlie's eyes widen in shock as she subconsciously suckles her paci, cries turning to muted sniffles. Henry snorts, booping her nose.

She still was the cutest little poopy pamper princess he remembered.

“Your dad was right, binkies make the perfect little mute button!” Henry says amused as he climbs atop the elephant next to Charlie. 

Charlie could die, as the ride jolts forward, the up and down motion of the carousel squishing her shame even deeper into her skin which further causes the mess to ooze from the leakguard of her diaper. Charlie wails again in humiliation and great, childish discomfort. 

Henry doesn’t hold his laugh back this time as he realizes what’s just happened. 

Charlie had a blowout like a newborn baby. 

“Hold on tight Kiddo! It's going to be a messy ride!”

🎪 • The End • 🎪

[mads-the-dog]

Crime and Punishment

This is a reverse perspective of a recent story by my friend @malewife-beater! Go check out Gwen's awesome work here!

I can't help but grin as it vibrates to life in my hand.

The defeat in his eyes, the pathetic whimper, the way he obediently spreads his legs, exposing his soaked overnight diaper.

If only his old self could see what I see now. Maybe that fucker wouldn't have cheated on me.

I press the tip of the Hitachi wand--his 'buzzy wand' as I make him call it--into the front of his diaper, and he starts to squirm.

Sometimes, I'm amazed at how easy it was to reduce the confident, arrogant slut who was my husband into the pathetic, quick-shot bedwetter laying in front of me.

Of course, I knew he had been cheating on me before I found the evidence to hang him with.

The late nights. Hiding his phone. The scent of other women's perfume. The weird way some of my so-called friends would act around me.

The signs were everywhere.

But, I knew to really get my revenge, patience would be a virtue.

I waited not only until I had all the evidence I needed to confront him with his infidelity, but also until every piece of my plan was in place.

Hypnosis files bought and a speaker covertly hidden on his side of the bed.

Doctor's consulted and bribed, ready to convince him his changes were medical.

The parade of women he'd been sleeping with roped in, so they would know, going forward, the stud they had slept with was soon to be nothing more than a quick-shot, overgrown toddler.

It was all I could do to keep from laughing when I finally confronted him with his adultery, let him know I wasn't upset with him, and suggested opening up the marriage. His visible relief at my words was all I needed to see. He thought that he had won.

"Mmm… Fudge… Oh… Gah…"

In front of me, he bites his lower lip as his body stiffens, and he releases a big sticky load into his pampers.

I smile softly at him.

"28 seconds before making stickies? Buddy, I'm so proud of you! That's a new record!"

Despite how embarrassing my words should be, he can't help but smile and giggle at my tone. The new hypnosis files, the ones that make him crave being treated like a toddler, are clearly working.

A pat the front of his diaper in satisfaction, causing him to squirm.

"Now, go clean yourself up! You've got a big day of work ahead of you, cutie," I coo.

He jumps to comply, waddling into our master bathroom to take a shower.

"Oh, and sweetheart," I continue as I hear the sound of diaper tapes being peeled open, "Make sure to empty your diaper pale today. Paul--you know, the hot guy with that huge dick--he's coming over tonight, and I don't want our room smelling like a nursery."

I almost turn the buzzy wand on myself when I hear his pathetic whimper in response. Instead, I decide to save my energy for when Paul comes over tonight.

My husband may never cum in anything but his dirty diapers again, but, tonight, while he's pissing his pants in bed, Mama's getting laid!