🎻 kink is art. 🎻 (formerly dlcurator)

30s cishet male, married ABDL switch | 18+ 🚫NMIK🚫 ⚠️ This blog centers diaper and age play fetishes, meaning that all stories, references, and general nomenclature pertain exclusively to consenting adults. Minors are never referenced nor welcome. ⚠️

[mozarts-kink]

🔥 Welcome to my vicarious kink space 🔥

You may have connected with me as “dlcurator”—but it’s been long enough that I’ve been posting original content instead of curating anything!

And so, it was time for a new username—and a pinned post refresh! Mozart was a freak… and so am I. And while I personally have no scatological aspirations with my cousin (look it up!), let’s all be kink-positive among consenting adults, shall we? Kink is art, and musicians are devious. 🎻😈

I have been into diapers as long as I’ve been sexually aware.

Although age play has eluded me until fairly recently. Diapers have always been that one fixation that drives me wild: casually wearing, in a BDSM context for humiliation, or other general power dynamics between partners. But recently, I’ve begun to open my mind to the gentle power dynamics of ABDL that appeal far more to me than the harshness of BDSM.

And before I get any further, for those of you with no prior exposure to the kink: Minors are expressly 🚫 UNWELCOME 🚫. Age play has nothing to do with minors.

And unless your name is Donald Trump, apparently, pedophilia is a crime. It saddens me that the lack of curiosity about kinks (and our sexually repressed society in general) means that some conflate ABDL with actual children. It’s the extreme cognitive dissonance, euphoria of regression, and taboo of adults reverting to childlike behaviors that is the appeal. Your age must be visible on your blog if you want me to engage with you.

And since I mentioned Trump, my views are Fuck ICE, Free Palestine. 🇵🇸

Why is that important? Our world is burning to the ground thanks to oligarchs and White Christian Nationalists who are complicit in genocide, fascism, mass abductions, and systematic marginalization. If you’re going to take refuge in our shared ABDL kink space, do me a favor and let me know that you’re not part of the problem. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🖤🤎♿️ This blog is not only friendly to all genders, sexual orientations, races, nationalities, physical disabilities, or neurodivergences, but in a heartbeat, I will stand up to anyone who makes you feel unsafe. ✊👊

Feel free to say hi!

Reaching out to establish community around ABDL is a relatively new venture for me—and it is exhilarating. I am in a happy, loving, stable marriage to a partner who is well aware of my myriad kinks (and beginning to explore for herself); so I am open to friendship, in-depth discussion of kinks, and even platonic in-person meetups, but not available to be anyone’s physical partner, DD, or LB. More than anything, I cherish the opportunity to really get to know others in the community. What does ABDL look like for you? Which life events do you think inspired your kinks? What is your story?

And for the fun part…

🔥 KINKS 🔥: ABDL, ABDL diapers (especially white with printed landing strip), wetting, messing, intimate diaper changes, omorashi, accidents, farting (the sound, not the smell), toilet bans, diaper punishment, butts 🍑🤩, forced chastity, desperation, edging, intelligence, feminism, fem worship, deep conversations, learning about others’ kinks

😬 NOT FOR ME 😬: Male dom CNC, baby talk, degradation, scat-touching/smearing, vomit

🛑 HARD LIMITS 🛑: Non-consent (particularly Epstein/Trump preferences), racism, misogyny, trans hatred, Zionism, MAGA, bullying

[mozarts-kink]

Today was Day 5 in diapers. Sometimes only at night after work… but five days straight nonetheless! A personal record. Enforced bathroom and pants bans since this morning working from home.

Word on the street is that this is how I’ll be dressed till tomorrow afternoon. 😅

[mozarts-kink]

TLDR: Philosophical diaper-posting

Years ago, had I seen this picture, I’d have been wildly turned on—as I am today. But if I knew it was a picture of me? The shame would have been incomprehensible. Of course, most of us deal with this duality of euphoria versus humiliation in kink. But I have spent the past year trying hard to understand why.

I know that I am particularly susceptible to pride and vanity (I am often deserving of the performing artist stereotype 😅)—but also control. I’m a type-A extrovert accustomed to leadership roles, and… I’m a straight cis man. Meaning no sanctimony or gratuitous guilt, but I have been bestowed with tremendous unearned power. Control, dominance, and unsurprisingly, perfection have established an insidious jurisdiction over my entire personality. I don’t think this is unique.

What could be more antithetical to such an identity than diapers? Moreover, ABDL as a whole: age play, vulnerability, and sheer taboo? I’m sure this has always been part of the allure, if not most of it; somewhere, deep down, we are enticed by that which is forbidden—perhaps especially when self-forbidden. But for me, it’s more than a fleeting desire. Vulnerability and softness are a part of me, denied by years of toxic masculinity (despite my best efforts), career ambition, and chronic perfectionism. ABDL is literally helping me to understand who I am and have always been.

For most of my life, I accepted my diaper fetish from a dominant role—imagining myself as the caregiver—and exclusively in a sexual context. Diapers are inextricably tied to my sexuality (and remain my primary sexual fixation), and I find the gentle dominance of playing the CG role to be intoxicating. However, the revelation that I too can be submissive… can wear diapers and project into a carefree stage of life… has actually changed my life. (Even writing this out feels so silly!) I have allowed myself to be softer. Vulnerable. Submissive. In fact, I believe that all cishet men should learn submissiveness as a counter to systemic inequities—not necessarily as an identity, but a skill that encompasses listening, stepping back, deference, and affirmation of those bereft of social privilege. Embracing my kink has made me a better ally, husband, and human being.

(As an aside, I strongly recommend the latest episode of the Love In Brief podcast. @lolaandthens0me and @resonantyes provide brilliant commentary and philosophy, responding to questions about shame, headspace, “masculinity,” and pragmatic diapering advice.)

Although I don’t expect that anyone truly escapes the occasional shame of wearing diapers as adults in a puritanical world that barely understands sexuality—let alone kink—I have embraced a fuller, more joyful understanding of myself. When I see this picture of me in a sheerly vulnerable state, I feel peace and intense warmth. I’m still proud and perfectionistic; but I have made room for my other side. Out in public I can be an assertive firebrand who cares about my career, musical aptitude, and an impeccable image. But in the privacy of my home? I’m a gentle boy who wears diapers.

This picture is not a shameful sexual pursuit; it’s who I am. 💜

Edit: Make nothing of my shirt. I am very proudly not patriotic in the age of Trump, ICE, and American Zionism. 😡

[mozarts-kink]

I’ve learned that taking out the trash is one of those things that slips your mind when running late for work. 😱

[mozarts-kink]

Diapers are fashion, and I will die on this hill. And the duality of diapers under adult clothes? Intoxicating.

Which is the superior look with diapers: ABDL or vanilla clothes? I welcome nuanced answers. 😊

[mozarts-kink]

Language is everything in this kink.

“I have to use the bathroom. May I please go?”

“What do you have to do?”

“I have to pee!”

“But you’re not allowed to use the bathroom. Where do you need to pee?”

“In… my pants.”

“Nope. You’re not wearing pants. Try again.”

“…in my diaper.”

“Good boy. Try asking again.”

“May I please pee in my diaper?”

“That’s more like it! And no. You can have your relief a little later. But since you were so polite, you have my permission to come watch me pee in the bathroom.” 😱

[mozarts-kink]

I’m cooked, friends. I feel way more confident in diapers than in regular clothes—or nothing at all. 👀

[mozarts-kink]

There is no better feeling than having a day off, getting out of the shower, and changing directly into this outfit for the day. 🫠

[mozarts-kink]

Literally, my favorite outfit.

[mozarts-kink]

Hi i just stumbled upon your page and i love the content. I am so happy that you found yourself and women that except you for who you are even though she doesn’t have the same feelings about ABDL as you. I wish you the best of luck and I would enjoy talking more if you would like.

Thank you so much for your kindness! We’ve been married a long time, but only recently did I pick up the nerve to tell her everything about my kink. Turns out I just needed to be open and vulnerable! Feel free to reach out anytime; my DMs are open. 😊

[mozarts-kink]

My first real diaper punishment (a 100% true story!)

Working from home, I decided to wear diapers for the day—but after all was said and done (virtual meetings, projects), I didn’t actually change my attire till the early evening. My wife—vanilla by nature, but increasingly curious—was to come home early from work, and I picked up the nerve to remain diapered when she arrived. She came through the door and upstairs to find me as pictured, playing Super Mario 64, a game that released when I’d have been dressing for bed like this—if a few years out of diapers. A subtle personality, my wife smiled and remarked how cute I looked.

We proceeded to watch an hour-long episode of a TV show together, and by the time it was over, we both needed a bathroom break. I needed to pee for a while, but had been holding it, still a little shy about wetting my diaper in front of my wife. “Come with me!” She beckoned, as she abruptly rose to run to the bathroom. (For someone without an innate omo/ABDL kink, she has some adorable bathroom urgency habits! 🤩🥵) I followed her into the bathroom, where she immediately pulled down her pants, sat on the toilet and peed forcefully as she looked me over with a smile on her face. Witnessing her relief, a wave of desperation hit me—both to relieve aching bladder, and my growing erection inspired by the scene before me. “Not for you!” she commanded as she stood up, wiped, and flushed. She washed her hands and led me to the bedroom. “I need my vibrator.” She mentioned as she retrieved the Hitachi wand from her bedside.

Leading me back into the TV room, she settled into one of the beanbag chairs, and invited me to join her. “Pull down your pants,” She instructed, as I started to lie down beside her, “just a little bit, so that I can see your diaper.”

We began to make out as I heard her vibrator begin to buzz. She placed it against the conspicuous bulge in my diaper. “I’m actually pretty uncomfortable. May I pee first?” I asked gently. "Oh, you need to pee?" She teased in mock sympathy, turning off the vibrator. As desperate as I was for the vibration, I needed my erection to wane so that I could pee. "How badly?" She continued to taunt, now dancing her fingers across the surface of my diaper. "Badly. Really badly. Please, can you stop so that I can go?" Finally, she removed her hand and resumed kissing me. As worked up as I was, I managed to soften just enough that I started trickling into my diaper. Part shyness, part erection, it wasn't much at first—and it was a very good thing; because the angle of my aroused penis was enough to the edge of my diaper that the padding would not save me from the inevitable: I was leaking. I stopped, but it was too late. I peed right past the padding—and I knew it immediately.

Subtly, I shifted and asked, "May I pee sitting up?" Suspicious, she helped me up, noticing the wet spot on my pants. "What did you do here?" She leaned in to smell my pant leg. "Yep. You peed your pants! Stand up—all the way." I followed her order. "Pants down. All the way to your ankles." Now genuinely humiliated, I obliged. She took my hand and looked me directly in the eyes. "It's okay, honey. You can finish in your diaper. Go on." With trepidation and considerable embarrassment, I let go and flooded my diaper. "Oh wow! You really had to go." She playfully poked at my swelling padding. "That's my good boy." I was stunned to hear my [formerly?] vanilla wife talking to me like a skilled ABDL caregiver.

"I'm... finished." I sheepishly reported. At this news, the buzz returned as she lifted her vibrator to the front of my saturated diaper. Her other hand held mine tightly as she cooed, "You're going to cum in your diaper for me—and then we're walking over to the bathroom, where you're going to wash your pajama pants in the sink. You made a big mess!" I gasped with pleasure, the confluence of her kinky words with the intoxicating vibrations pushed me closer to the edge. "And since you can't seem to keep your pants clean, I think you're not going to be wearing them for the rest of the night, okay? Just your shirt and your little diaper." I moaned in agreement. "You're going to change into a fresh diaper that you're going to wear until tomorrow morning, do you understand? No toilet before bed." It was too much; I rapidly approached climax as my knees buckled. "Big boys don't wet their pants, do they?" I could barely utter my agreement. "And since you're not a big boy, what are you going to wear instead of pants?" I had passed the point of no return. "Diaper... diapers..." I stammered as I lost all control, exploding the entire evening's pent-up tension into my wet diaper. I could barely stand. "That's a good boy." My wife encouraged me as she squeezed my hand, pressing the vibrator firmly into my convulsing bulge.

In a daze of relief and soft shame, I stood before my clever, gorgeous, accomplished wife in a ruined diaper. "Well, what did I tell you to do? Go on!" I had half hoped that her punishment was just talk to arouse me—but the way she looked at me told a different story. I removed my wet pants from around my ankles, leaving the room in shame as my wife stared down my diapered butt. Dutifully, I washed my defiled pants in the sink, cleaned up, and changed into a new diaper. (And there is nothing more humiliating than a post-orgasm diaper change!) Wearing nothing but my shirt and the fresh diaper, I returned to my wife, who herself was no longer wearing pants—or underwear. The vibrator was now buzzing between her legs as she beckoned me with her finger. "Now it's my turn—and you're going to use your mouth."

[mozarts-kink]

“Professional attire” means all sorts of things on a work-from-home day. 🫣

[mozarts-kink]

Slowly but surely, I’m finding my ABDL aesthetic—and this is just about right. 🫠

Diapers 🤝 pajamas

[mozarts-kink]

What's your favorite Mozart repertoire? Mine's Le nozze di Figaro. Just so deeply human.

Where would music be without Mozart’s operas? A great choice! Of his operas, I’d have to pick Don Giovanni.

But I think my favorites of all are his Serenade for Winds in C minor and his Violin Sonata in E minor. Some of my favorite melodies—and Mozart’s idiom is riveting in minor key!

[mozarts-kink]

My first teacher used to tell me that nobody in the audience should be able to tell how many hours of practice it took to make a performance look effortless. 🎶

I guess it’s not only the hours I’m obscuring. 😉

[mozarts-kink]

What’s a fantasy involving regression or caregiving that you haven’t tried yet?

Such a fun question. I have been curious about chastity play—and cages—for a long time but haven’t yet committed to purchasing the hardware. The intersection of gentle ABDL and punitive chastity is extremely alluring.

I tend to think that as a sub I’m receptive to harsher BDSM elements than I am willing to enact as a dom—but my spouse is firmly dominant in kink play, so I’m not entirely sure! Anything that veers too close to misogyny or male-dom cnc turns me way off.

I’ll give some thought to a more elaborate scenario involving diapers and chastity! (Maaaybe I have a few already… 😅)

[mozarts-kink]

On or off?