Regression School

20s Daddy, married to my beautiful princess. Minors DNI Like my writing? Support me over at: https://subscribestar.adult/RegressionSchool

[asn-dpr-qt]

Stinkie accident?? What do you mean?

I am just playing, Daddy 🎀🎀

[regressionschool]

Daddy’s nostrils flared as he stepped into the nursery, the air thick with the unmistakable scent of a very full diaper. His eyes immediately landed on his little one, sprawled out on the floral playmat, her purple tutu fluffed up around her as she giggled to herself, completely oblivious. The diaper beneath her was swollen, the printed stars and hearts stretched tight over the mess she’d made. A dark, uneven stain spread across the back, the proof of her latest accident, though, to her, it wasn’t an accident at all. It was just what good girls did.

Daddy crouched down beside her, his voice thick with amusement. “Mmm, someone’s been a very good girl, hasn’t she?” he teased, his fingers hovering just above the puffy padding. The little one didn’t even flinch. She was too busy twisting a lock of hair around her finger, her other hand patting the head of her stuffed whale. She didn’t notice the mess. She never did. To her, the warmth and pressure were just part of being Daddy’s little one, comforting, even.

“Daddy’s playing!” she chirped, kicking her legs lazily. The diaper crinkled loudly beneath her, the sound filling the room. Daddy’s lips quirked as he tapped the swollen padding. “Oh, I see what you’ve been playing at,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sternness. “And what a messy game it is.”

She blinked up at him, her expression innocent, her mind blissfully unaware of the stinkie situation beneath her. “Huh?” she asked, tilting her head. Daddy chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t even know, do you?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. She never did. His little one was unpotty trained to the core, her body did what it needed, and she simply existed in the blissful ignorance of a true little.

“Know what, Daddy?” she asked, her voice sweet and clueless. Daddy sighed, though his eyes were warm. “That you’ve made a very big, very stinkie poopy in your diaper,” he explained, his fingers pressing gently against the bulging padding. The little one giggled, her toes curling as the pressure shifted. “Ohhh,” she cooed, as if this were a revelation. “Is that why it’s all squishy back there?”

Daddy couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, princess. That’s exactly why.” He reached for the changing mat, unfolding it with a practiced flick. “But that’s okay, because good girls do make poopies. And Daddy’s here to take care of you, isn’t he?”

She beamed up at him, her face lighting up. “Mhm! Daddy always takes care of me!” she agreed, finally rolling onto her back as he lifted her onto the mat. The diaper squelched beneath her, the sound making Daddy wrinkle his nose, but only for a second. He loved this. Loved her. Loved the way she could be so perfectly, blissfully unaware of her own messes, trusting him to handle everything.

“That’s right,” Daddy murmured, peeling back the tapes of her diaper. The mess inside was impressive.... But Daddy didn’t mind. This was part of the job of having a little one who was unpotty trained—who let her body do what it needed, without shame or hesitation. “Good girls make poopies,” he reminded her, his voice soft as he began to clean her up. “And Daddy loves taking care of his good girl.”

She giggled as the wipes touched her skin, her legs kicking playfully. “Daddy’s the best,” she declared, her voice full of pride. Daddy chuckled, shaking his head as he worked. “And you’re the stinkiest,” he teased, though there was no real frustration in his voice. Only affection. Only love.

As he powdered her bottom, the puff of white dust making her sneeze, she wiggled happily. “Does this mean I get a new diaper?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. Daddy grinned, reaching for the fresh one, this one with tiny pink bunnies. “Of course it does, princess. Because good girls always get fresh diapers.”

She clapped her hands, her tutu flaring out around her as she bounced with excitement. “Yay! I love diapers!” Daddy secured the tapes snugly around her waist, his touches gentle and sure. “There we go,” he murmured, helping her sit up. “All clean. All fresh. And still Daddy’s good girl.”

She threw her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “The best good girl!” she declared. Daddy laughed, hugging her close. “Yes, you are,” he agreed. “Now, how about we go show off your fresh diaper to your stuffed friends? I’m sure they’re very jealous.”

She gasped, her eyes wide with delight. “Ooooh, can I, Daddy? Can I show them?” Daddy nodded, ruffling her hair. “Of course, princess. But first…” He raised an eyebrow, his voice shifting into something firmer. “Let’s go wash those hands, hmm? Even good girls need clean hands.”

She pouted for a second, but the promise of showing off her fresh diaper was too exciting. She let Daddy pull her to her feet, her new diaper crinkling with every step. As they walked toward the sink, she glanced back at the playmat, at the stuffed animals watching silently. She couldn’t wait to tell them all about her new diaper and how Daddy had taken such good care of her. Because that’s what good girls did. And that’s what Daddies were for.

[princess-lizzy]

I feel like I almost want to be a bed wetter at this point because I have to wake up in the middle of the night basically every night to go pee and I'm so tired of not being able to sleep through the night 😭

[regressionschool]

The Wish Upon a Shooting Star

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow through the half-drawn curtains of lizzy’s bedroom. The clock on her nightstand read 2:47 AM, its dim red digits a cruel reminder of yet another night interrupted. She groaned as she rolled out of bed, her bare feet padding softly against the cool hardwood floor. The routine was exhausting: wake up, stumble to the bathroom, pee, and then attempt to fall back asleep, only to repeat the cycle in another two or three hours. Tonight, however, the frustration had reached a boiling point.

lizzy rubbed her bleary eyes as she shuffled down the hallway, her mind foggy with sleep. The air was still, the house silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs. She paused at the bathroom door, her hand resting on the frame as she let out a sigh. Why can’t I just sleep through the night? she thought, her voice a whisper in her own mind. The idea of not having to drag herself out of bed every few hours, felt like a distant dream.

And then, as if the universe had been listening, a new thought crept in, one that surprised even her. I almost wish I was a bed wetter. The words formed in her mind before she could stop them. The idea was absurd, of course. But the exhaustion was wearing her down.

lizzy shook her head, as if the physical motion could dislodge the ridiculous notion. But as she turned toward the window at the end of the hallway, something caught her eye. A streak of light tore across the night sky, a shooting star burning bright and fast. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

The star vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind only the faintest afterimage in her vision. lizzy blinked, suddenly aware of how silly she must look, standing in the middle of the hallway in her pajamas, talking to the night sky. She shook her head again, this time with a small, tired laugh, and finally made her way to the bathroom.

lizzy woke slowly, her mind surfacing from a deep, dreamless sleep. The first thing she noticed was how rested she felt, no grogginess, no lingering exhaustion, just a quiet, unfamiliar clarity. She blinked, her eyelids heavy but not from fatigue. The room around her was bathed in soft, golden morning light, filtering through the curtains in a way that felt… different.

She stretched, her fingers brushing against something smooth and cool. A pacifier? She froze, her breath hitching as she rolled onto her side. The room wasn’t her room, not the one she remembered, at least. The walls were painted a soothing pastel, the furniture sturdy but playful, like a nursery… but scaled for her adult body. The crib stood in the corner, and a changing table sat against the far wall, stocked with stacks of diapers that made her stomach twist.

And then there was the feeling. A damp, heavy warmth between her legs. She shifted slightly, her cheeks flushing as she realized: she was wearing a diaper. A soaked one.

lizzy’s heart pounded. This wasn’t right. None of it was. But before she could process it further, the door creaked open. Her roommate, Sarah, stepped inside, her expression soft and knowing. She didn’t knock. She didn’t ask. She simply walked over, crouched down, and, without a word, began checking lizzy’s diaper.

“Such a good sleeper,” Sarah cooed, her voice warm with approval. “You didn’t stir once. Not even a little.”

lizzy’s lips twitched. The situation was absurd, surreal, but the praise that felt real. A giggle bubbled up, unstoppable, as Sarah finished her diaper check and gave her an approving pat on the head.

lizzy couldn’t help it. She giggled again, the sound bright and unguarded, even as her mind raced with questions.

[lildiaperedsunshine]

Baby Chloe wakes up from her nap and is surprised at the squishiness she feels between her legs. With the help of Mr. Bear she unbuttons her footie pajamas to check her soaked diaper. She squishes and rubs her diapy until she remembers mommy has a special toy that would make her squishy diaper feel EVEN better. Baby Chloe grabs the toy and makes herself feel so good until she cums in her wet diaper. Tired out Chloe then decides to put herself down for another nap. 🙈💕

FIND THE VIDEO ON CLIPS4SALE & MANYVIDS!

[regressionschool]

Baby Chloe’s Naughty Nap Time

The sun was all sleepy and golden through the window, but Baby Chloe was wide awake now. She’d been napping all snug in her footie jammies, Mr. Bear squished tight in her arms, but then, ohhh, she’d woken up to something wet and squishy between her legs. Her diapy was soaked, the thick padding heavy and warm, pressing against her little pussy like a big, sloppy hug.

“Uh-oh,” Chloe giggled, her voice all high and silly. She wiggled her hips, and squish-squish, ohhh, that sound was so good. She couldn’t help it. She had to touch. Her fingers fumbled with the snaps on her jammies, popping them open one by one until her diapy was right there, all puffy and discolored where the wetness had spread. “Mr. Bear,” she cooed, hugging him tight, “Chloe made a big mess in her diapy!”

She pressed her hands down, squishing the gel inside, and ohhh, it felt so naughty. The diapy was practicially dripping, the plastic crinkling loud as she rubbed her thighs together, her little clit all tingly and warm. She bit her lip, her face getting all red. She should call for Mommy… but Mommy would spank her for playing in her wet diapy. And Chloe loved it when Mommy spanked her… but not right now. Right now, she just wanted to feel good.

Then she remembered, Mommy’s special toy.

Her eyes got all big and sparkly. The vibrator was in her nightstand, all pink and buzzing, and ohhh, she needed it right now. She kicked her jammie bottoms off, her legs flailing as she reached for the drawer. The toy was right there, waiting for her. She turned it on, and bzzzz, the sound made her giggle. She pressed it right against her diapy, and ohhhh fuck, it felt so good.

“Mmm, yes,” she moaned, her voice all whiny and babyish. She rubbed the toy in little circles, her hips lifting up off the bed. The diapy crinkled so loud, the wetness squishing around as she ground down on the buzzing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whimpered, her hands gripping the blankets. She was such a messy little baby, playing in her soaked diapy like this, but she couldn’t stop.

She spread her legs wider, the toy pressing just right against her clit through the thick padding. “Mr. Bear, Chloe’s gonna cum,” she babbled, her voice all breathy and dumb. The vibrations made her whole body shake, her diapy squishing so much it was dripping down her thighs. She didn’t care. She loved it. She wanted to be a messy, soaked little baby for Mommy.

And then, ohhhh, it hit her. Her back arched, her toes curled, and she let out a loud, needy cry as she came hard in her diapy. The toy buzzed against her, the wetness spreading everywhere, her little body trembling as the pleasure crashed over her. “Fuck,” she whined, her voice all high and silly. “Chloe’s a good baby… a messy baby…”

She panted, her chest heaving as she finally pulled the toy away, her fingers all sticky from the wetness. The diapy was ruined, soaked, squished, and so fucking perfect. She giggled, pressing her hands down one last time, the squish so loud it was almost as good as the buzzing.

But now she was tired. So, so tired. She yawned, her eyelids all heavy, and snuggled back down under the blankets, her jammie top riding up. The toy could stay right there. Maybe Mommy would find it later and know what her naughty little baby had been doing.

As she drifted off, her last thought was of her squishy, soaked diapy, and how good it felt to be such a filthy little mess.

[hypnocatabdl]

He may be potty training, but he still goes in nice thick diapers every night 😇

[regressionschool]

The afternoon sun spilled through the half-drawn curtains, painting the bedroom in soft gold as Jake waddled into the room, his pull-ups crinkling with every step. He’d been so proud of himself all day, one whole afternoon without a single accident, and now he was practically bouncing as he climbed onto the bed, his pull-ups adorned with tiny blue dinosaurs. "Look, Mommy!" he chirped, rolling onto his back and kicking his legs in the air. "I stayed dry all day! No leaks, no nothing! I’m such a big boy!"

Lilly, lounging against the pillows in her checkered pajamas, smirked as she watched him. She reached out, her fingers tracing the waistband of his pull-ups with a teasing slowness. "Oh, you are such a big boy," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Did you get a gold star? Should we call the newspaper? Local Man Wears Pull-Ups for Three Whole Hours Without Peeing, what a hero."

Jake pouted, swatting at her hand. "I did good! You said if I stayed dry, I could have extra dessert tonight!"

Lilly laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, baby, you did do good. So good, in fact, that I almost forgot about tonight." She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. "But we both know what happens when the sun goes down, don’t we?"

Jake’s legs stilled. His fingers twitched at the hem of his pull-ups, suddenly self-conscious. "I... I might still need my night diaper," he mumbled, his voice losing some of its earlier confidence.

"Might?" Lilly echoed, her tone sharp with amusement. She grabbed his chin, tilting his face up to meet her gaze. "Oh, sweetheart, there’s no ‘might’ about it. You will need it. You always do." She tapped his nose playfully. "Remember last night? When you woke up so soggy I could’ve wrung you out like a sponge? Or the night before, when you swore you’d stay dry, and then, oops!, there went another diaper, soggy before sunrise?"

Jake’s cheeks flushed. "That... that was different! I was tired!"

Lilly giggled, rolling him onto his stomach and giving his padded bottom a firm pat. The crinkle of his pull-ups was loud in the quiet room. "Mhm, and tonight? Are you not going to be tired, baby? Or are you just going to pretend you’re too grown-up for your nice, thick night diapers?" She reached beneath the bed, pulling out the familiar pack of overnight diapers, extra absorbent, with cute little clouds printed on them. "Because I know how much you love these. How safe they make you feel."

Jake squirmed, but there was no real protest in it. The truth was, he did love them. The way they hugged his hips, the way they made him feel small and cared for, the way Lilly’s hands lingered just a little longer when she fastened the tapes. But he wanted to be proud of his pull-ups. He wanted to be a big boy, just for a little while.

Lilly didn’t let him off the hook. "Tell me, Jakey," she said, tapping the diaper against his thigh, "do you really think those pull-ups are going to last you all night? You start to dribble the second your head hits the pillow, like you always do?"

Jake groaned, burying his face in the floral comforter. "I don’t always..."

"Yes, you do," Lilly interrupted, her voice sing-song. "And you know what? That’s fine. Because Mommy loves taking care of her little dribble-baby. Loves changing you in the morning, loves seeing how heavy your diaper gets by dawn." She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "But don’t get it twisted, sweetheart. Pull-ups are for daytime. For practice. Nighttime? That’s my time. And my time means diapers."

Jake whined, but the sound was half-hearted. He knew she was right. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, his bladder had a mind of its own once he was asleep. And honestly… he didn’t mind the diapers. Not really. But the teasing...oh, the teasing was the worst.

Lilly, sensing his surrender, grinned. "Aww, don’t pout, baby. You like your night diapers. You like how they make you feel all snug and sleepy. You like how I rub your back until you’re all dozy and then, oops" She mimed a little explosion with her hands. "All gone."

Jake kicked his legs in protest, but he was already scooting toward the edge of the bed, where Lilly had laid out the diaper and a fresh pair of pajamas. "Fine," he grumbled. "But I did stay dry today. That counts for something."

Lilly’s laugh was warm, affectionate. "Oh, it absolutely counts, baby. And I’m so, so proud of you." She helped him out of his pull-ups, her fingers lingering on his skin. "But pride doesn’t stop pee, does it?" She waggled her eyebrows. "And we both know what happens to little boys who don’t wear their night diapers."

Jake shivered, half from the cool air, half from the way her voice dropped into that low, teasing tone. "They… get wet sheets?"

Lilly nodded solemnly. "And a very cross Mommy. And nobody wants that, do they?"

Jake shook his head, his resistance crumbling. The truth was, he loved this. Loved the ritual of it, the way Lilly’s hands were gentle but firm as she lifted his hips, slid the thick diaper beneath him, and fastened it snugly around his waist. Loved the way she’d pat his bottom when she was done, like he was her good little boy.

"See?" Lilly murmured, smoothing the front of his diaper. "Isn’t that better? Now you can sleep all night, and Mommy won’t have to wake up to a soggy mess." She booped his nose. "And if you do stay dry? Well. I’ll be so surprised, I might just have to give you two gold stars tomorrow."

Jake rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, his earlier pout forgotten. "You’re impossible."

Lilly kissed his forehead. "And you’re adorable. Now, let’s get you into your jammies before you start leaking just from thinking about it."

Jake yelped as she tickled his sides, but he didn’t argue. Because as much as he loved his pull-ups, as much as he loved the idea of being a big boy… there was something even better about sinking into the mattress, thick diaper and all, knowing that no matter what happened tonight, Mommy would take care of him.

And if he did dribble? Well. That was just more proof that some things never changed.

[mads-the-dog]

Partner overwhelmed?

Simplify their life!

A bit of conditioning and they'll be thanking you for no longer having to worry about simple tasks like feeding themselves or using the potty. At least, they would be if they could still talk.

Follow me for more helpful but unethical relationship advice!

[regressionschool]

the price of love

You start small. That’s the key. A nudge here, a suggestion there nothing overt, nothing that would raise alarms. The first time you hand her a sippy cup instead of a wine glass, she laughs, rolls her eyes, and takes it anyway. "You’re ridiculous," she says, but she drinks from it. You smile. Progress.

By the third week, she doesn’t question the plastic plate at dinner, the way her meals are pre-cut, the way you’ve started referring to her as "baby" in public. Her friends raise eyebrows, but she just giggles, swats your arm, and plays along. "He’s just teasing," she tells them. You’re not. You’re testing.

The conditioning begins in earnest when you introduce the pacifier. You leave it on her pillow, a silent offering. She scoffs, tosses it aside. But the next night, after a long day at work, she picks it up, turns it over in her fingers. "This is stupid," she mutters, but she puts it in her mouth. The relief is instant, her shoulders relax, her breathing slows. You watch from the doorway, satisfied. "Good girl," you murmur. She doesn’t hear you, but she doesn’t need to.

The diapers are the hardest sell. You start by "joking" about how much easier life would be if she didn’t have to worry about the toilet. "Imagine never having to get up in the middle of the night," you say, half-serious. She laughs, but the seed is planted. Then, one evening, you "accidentally" spill water on her favorite pants. "Oops," you say, handing her a thick, crinkly diaper. "Better safe than sorry." She hesitates, but the pants are ruined anyway. She puts it on. The humiliation burns in her cheeks, but so does the strange, shameful thrill of surrender.

You reinforce the behavior with praise, with treats, with the kind of affection she’s been craving. "See how much easier this is?" you coo, ruffling her hair as she sits, pacifier in mouth, coloring in a book you bought her. She doesn’t argue. She’s too busy chasing the high of your approval, the way your voice softens when she obeys.

Her resistance fades in stages. First, she stops wearing real clothes at home. Then, she stops correcting you when you call her "little one." Then, one day, she wakes up and doesn’t reach for her phone, she reaches for the stuffed bunny you left on her nightstand. You watch, proud, as she curls around it, thumb in her mouth. She doesn’t even notice.

The final step is the most delicate: the loss of speech. You start by encouraging her to point at what she wants, to use gestures instead of words. "Use your words," you tease, but the irony is lost on her. She’s too busy trying to please you. When she stumbles over a sentence, you frown, shake your head. "Try again, baby." She does. And when she can’t, when the words won’t come, you reward her silence with a kiss on the forehead, a "That’s my good girl."

By the time she’s fully regressed, she doesn’t remember what it was like to be anything else. She crawls to you when she’s hungry, whimpers when she’s thirsty, and stares blankly when old friends visit, their shock barely registering. You’ve taken everything from her, her voice, her independence, her potty training and replaced it with something simpler. Something better, you tell yourself.

But there are moments, late at night, when she’s asleep in the crib you installed in the corner of the bedroom, when you catch a flicker of the woman she used to be in the set of her jaw, the furrow of her brow. For a second, you wonder if she’s still in there, trapped, screaming. Then she stirs, mumbles something incoherent, and rolls over, clutching her blanket. You exhale. Safe.

You’ve simplified her life, just like you promised. No more bills, no more deadlines, no more expectations. Just you, her caretaker, her world. She doesn’t thank you, of course. She can’t. But the way she looks at you, like you’re her sun, her gravity, her everythingis thanks enough.

And if, sometimes, you wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, wondering if you’ve gone too far… well. That’s the price of love, isn’t it?

[regressionschool]

Cumming Her Brains Out

Charlotte’s fingers hovered over the screen, her breath shallow as she scrolled through another Tumblr blog, this one filled with images of women in thick, crinkly diapers, their expressions a mix of shame and bliss. Her thighs pressed together, a familiar ache building between her legs. She had seen these ads for months, lurking in the corners of her favorite sites, always dismissed with a quick click away. But tonight, something was different. The way the plastic gleamed, the way the models looked so helpless, it sent a jolt straight to her core.

She bit her lip, her other hand slipping beneath the waistband of her pajama pants. This is wrong, she thought, but her fingers didn’t stop. So wrong. And yet, the idea of it, the taboo, the naughtiness, only made her wetter. With a shuddering breath, she closed the tab and stood, her heart pounding as she walked to the drawer where she’d hidden her secret purchase. The package of diapers had arrived just that afternoon, tucked inside a plain brown box. She’d told herself it was just curiosity. Just a little experiment.

Now, as she unfolded the thick, plastic-backed diaper and sat on top of it, she knew she was lying.

The diaper crinkled loudly as she pulled it up her thighs, the tapes securing it snugly around her waist. The sensation was overwhelming foreign, yet right in a way she couldn’t explain. She shifted, listening to the rustle, feeling the bulk between her legs. Her face burned with shame, but her pussy was already damp, her clit throbbing with need.

Charlotte sank onto the couch, her legs spreading just enough to feel the pressure of the diaper against her aching sex. Just a little rub, she told herself. Just to see what it feels like. Her fingers pressed against the padding, circling slowly, and a moan slipped past her lips. The crinkle of plastic filled the room, the sound sending another wave of heat through her.

She was so focused on the sensation that she barely noticed the pressure building in her bladder, until it was too late. A gasp tore from her throat as the first spurt of warmth flooded the diaper, the absorbency swallowing the sound. The wetness spread, the padding clinging to her, and Charlotte’s hips jerked against her hand. Oh god. Oh god, I’m peeing myself. The thought should have horrified her. Instead, it sent her spiraling, her fingers rubbing faster, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

The diaper grew heavier, the wetness seeping through the layers, and Charlotte could feel herself getting dumber, her thoughts slowing, her worries dissolving into a haze of pleasure. She knew she should stop, knew this was too much, too filthy. But she couldn’t. She was too horny, too far gone, her body betraying her in the best possible way.

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, her back arching as she came hard, her diaper flooding with another gush of warmth. She cried out, her fingers digging into the soggy padding as her vision whited out. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, each one leaving her more empty-headed, more little. By the time she collapsed back against the couch, panting and spent, her mind was blissfully blank.

Charlotte giggled, her cheeks flushed as she wiggled her hips, feeling the heavy, wet diaper squish between her thighs. All her big girl thoughts, the shame, the guilt, the voice that told her this was wrong, were gone. She was just a horny, dripping mess, her body humming with satisfaction.

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[diapereddoe]

So how wet did the little piggy get her diaper while real women were out at the clubs?

I was a soggy girl on Friday. I didn’t even watch movies. Just edged myself silly in my diapers 🤤

[ameliemommy]

The phone had buzzed three times that afternoon. Three messages, three invitations, three chances to be normal. But she’d swiped them all away with a smirk. Of course she wasn’t going. What kind of woman would trade a night out for the chance to rot in a soggy diaper like a overgrown toddler?

The first invite had been from her old college friends: Drinks at 9, club after. She could already picture them glossy lips, tight dresses, the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were wanted. But she? She’d rather be home, her thighs already damp from the first few sips of water, her diaper crinkling like a trash bag every time she shifted.

The second had been from her coworker, the one who always smelled like perfume and ambition. Exclusive rooftop party, dress to impress. As if she could impress anyone. The only thing she was impressive at was soaking through a diaper in record time.

And the third? The third had been the worst. Her cousin, the one who still looked at her with pity, like she was a project that had gone horribly wrong. Family thing, just a few people. But she wasn’t family. She was a disgrace. A grown woman who’d rather spend her Friday night stuffed with a vibrator and a mouthful of water than face the world like an adult.

So here she was. Alone. Pathetic. A joke of a person.

The diaper was already thick between her legs, the plastic backing cool against her skin as she pulled it up, taping it snug. She could feel the bulk of it, the way it made her waddle like a duck when she walked to the kitchen for another glass of water. Chug, chug, chug. Her bladder ached almost immediately, the pressure building like a taunt. She could’ve been dancing right now. She could’ve been laughing. She could’ve been wanted.

But no. She was here. A little filthy piggy who’d chosen this.

The vibrator was next. She didn’t even hesitate as she pressed it inside, the silicone slick with lube, the base snug against her entrance. The moment she turned it on, the buzz sent a jolt through her, her hips jerking up off the couch. Pathetic. She was already dripping, the diaper swelling with every little leak, the crinkle growing wetter, louder, more humiliating with every passing second.

She spread her legs wider, her fingers digging into the soaked padding, feeling the way it squelched under her touch. The vibrator thrummed against her walls, and she bit her lip, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Real women were out there, living their lives, being seen. And here she was, a useless little mess, her diaper sagging with the weight of her own shame.

“Look at you,” she muttered to herself, her voice thick with self-loathing. “A grown woman, and you’d rather sit in your own piss like a baby than put on a dress and act like a person.”

She drank more. The water sloshed in her stomach, the pressure in her bladder turning from a dull ache to a desperate need. The diaper was a swamp now, the wetness seeping into every crevice, the plastic clinging to her skin. She could smell it, the musky, warm scent of her own pee. The vibrator kept up its cruel rhythm, and she rocked against it, her hips rolling in tiny, needy circles, her breath hitching every time she got so close...

Only to pull back.

Because she didn’t deserve to come.

She was a disgrace. A waste. A little piggy who’d chosen this over everything.

And the worst part?

She loved it.

[diapereddoe]

Well aren’t I just a flustered mess over here 🥵

[regressionschool]

Damn that's good!

[regressionschool]

Speechless

The first thing Odette noticed was the smell, powdery, sweet, and unmistakably infantile. It clung to the air like a thick, suffocating blanket, and it made her nose wrinkle in protest. But before she could even process the scent, the discomfort of her own body pulled her the rest of the way into consciousness. Her limbs ached, her head throbbed, and her mouth… her mouth was full. Something soft and rubbery pressed against her tongue, stretching her lips obscenely wide. A gag. She was gagged.

Panic flared in her chest. She tried to sit up, but her wrists and ankles were bound, secured to something cold and unyielding. A changing table. The realization hit her like a slap. She was tied down. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she twisted her head, taking in her surroundings. The room was bathed in pastel colors, pink walls, white furniture, and shelves lined with stacks of… diapers. Thick, crinkly, babyish diapers. A nursery. She was in a nursery.

And she was naked.

Odette let out a muffled scream, her voice reduced to a pathetic, nasally whine by the gag. She thrashed against her restraints, but the bonds held firm. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. What the hell was going on? The last thing she remembered was… was… nothing. A blank. Had she been drugged? Kidnapped? Her mind raced, but the fog of exhaustion clung to her thoughts, slowing them down like molasses.

She tried to call out again, but the gag swallowed her words whole. All that escaped was a pitiful, high-pitched mmph. She sagged against the padded surface beneath her, defeated. For now.

Minutes ticked by like hours. Odette’s struggles grew weaker, her energy sapped by the strange, heavy fatigue weighing down her limbs. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare.

Then, the door creaked open.

Odette’s eyes snapped open. A woman stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the hallway light. She was tall, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun, her expression unreadable. She wore a crisp white dress with a black apron, the uniform of someone who belonged here.

The woman stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She didn’t so much as glance at Odette’s frantic, wide-eyed stare. Instead, she hummed to herself as she approached, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Good morning, Odette,” the woman said, her voice sickeningly sweet, like honey laced with poison. “I am your Nanny.”

Odette let out another muffled protest, her body tensing. Nanny smiled, though the expression never reached her cold eyes.

“Oh, don’t look so upset, dear,” Nanny crooned, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Odette’s forehead. Her touch was gentle, almost maternal, but it sent a shiver down Odette’s spine. “You’ve been very naughty. Causing such a fuss. Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Odette’s mind reeled. She didn’t even know where the hell she was, let alone how she’d gotten here. She tried to speak, to demand answers, but the gag made it impossible. All that came out was a frustrated, garbled noise.

Nanny tsked, shaking her head. “Now, now. No talking. You lost that privilege when you decided to act like a spoiled little brat.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a pair of headphones, large, padded, and connected to a small device clipped to her belt. “But don’t worry. We’ll fix that.”

Before Odette could react, Nanny leaned down and placed the headphones over her ears. The world around her was suddenly muffled, replaced by a cacophony of strange, distorted sounds. High-pitched giggles, nonsensical babbling, and the occasional shush of a lullaby played backward. Odette’s eyes watered as she tried to make sense of it, but it was like listening to a language she’d never heard before. Her head pounded.

“There we go,” Nanny murmured, patting Odette’s cheek. “Now you can listen like a good little baby.”

Odette’s chest heaved. She wanted to scream, to kick, to bite, but the restraints held her fast. Nanny’s hands moved to the stack of diapers beside the table, unfurling a monstrous one with cartoon animals printed along the edges. Odette’s stomach twisted. No. No, no, no…

“Lift your hips, sweetheart,” Nanny instructed, tapping Odette’s thigh. When Odette refused, Nanny sighed and grabbed her, hauling her up by the waist with one arm while she slid the diaper beneath her with the other. The material was absurdly soft, but the humiliation burned like fire.

Odette thrashed, but it was no use. Nanny was strong, and she had the practiced efficiency of someone who’d done this a thousand times before. The diaper was secured in seconds, the tapes pulled snug around Odette’s waist. The bulk between her legs was immediate, the crinkle deafening even beneath the headphones’ din.

“There,” Nanny said, stepping back to admire her work. “All fresh and clean. For now.” She gave Odette’s nose a playful boop. “You’ll learn to not stay that way, won’t you?”

Odette’s face burned. She wanted to die. Wanted to disappear. But as Nanny turned toward the door, a new horror struck her.

A warm, spreading sensation pooled between her legs.

Her eyes widened. No. It couldn’t be.

But it was.

The diaper was wet.

Odette’s breath hitched. She hadn’t even felt it happening, the headphones, the distraction, the sheer unreality of the situation had masked it. But there was no denying the dampness seeping into the thick padding, the way the material clung to her skin.

Nanny paused at the door, her hand on the knob. She glanced back, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, dear. It happens to all babies.”

And with that, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Odette was left alone, gagged, diapered, and, oh God, peeing herself.

The headphones continued their maddening symphony, but beneath it all, one thought cut through the noise, clear as day:

She was going to pay for this.

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[regressionschool]

Inspection

The red and blue lights flashed in Cami’s rearview mirror, a jarring contrast to the late afternoon sun. She groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Of all the damn days. She hadn’t done anything wrong, she never did, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore. Not since the world had decided that women like her, women who still tried to be adults, were the odd ones out.

She pulled over, the car rolling to a stop with a quiet hum. Before she could even reach for her license, the officer was already at her window, his silhouette looming in the glass. She rolled it down, forcing a polite smile.

“Afternoon, officer,” she said, voice steady despite the irritation bubbling beneath.

The officer didn’t return the smile. His eyes flicked over her, her white t-shirt, the way her legs were pressed against the leather seat, the faint outline of her pull-ups beneath her skirt. His expression shifted, just slightly, into something amused. Condescending.

“License and registration, miss,” he said, but his tone was already dripping with that infuriating, knowing edge.

Cami exhaled sharply through her nose. She reached for her glove compartment, but before she could open it, the officer’s hand shot out, stopping her. “Hold on there. Let’s make sure you’re properly taken care of first.”

Her stomach twisted. She hated this. Hated the way the world had turned, hated the way men like him looked at her now, like she was some kind of curiosity, a relic from a time that no longer existed. Most women her age had long since given up driving, given up thinking, content to let their daddies or the state handle everything for them. But not Cami. She still had her license. Still had her pride.

“Officer, I’m fine,” she snapped, but her voice wavered just a little. She could feel his gaze lingering on her legs, on the way her skirt rode up just enough to hint at the thick fabric beneath.

“Mmm. That’s not for you to decide, is it?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into that mocking, daddy-like tone that made her skin crawl. “Lift your skirt. Let’s see for ourselves.”

Her face burned. She wanted to refuse, wanted to scream that this was ridiculous, that she was a grown woman, damn it. But the law was the law. And the law said that any woman could be inspected at any time, for her own safety, of course.

With a sharp, resentful motion, she hiked up her skirt, exposing the snug pull-ups hugging her hips. They were dry. Of course they were. She wasn’t some helpless little girl who couldn’t control her bladder.

The officer let out a low chuckle. “Well, well. Look at you. Still potty trained, huh?” His fingers twitched, and before she could protest, his hand was on her thigh, sliding upward. She stiffened, but his grip was firm, his touch deliberate as he pressed his palm against the front of her pull-ups, checking for wetness.

“Officer...!” she hissed, but he just smirked.

“Relax. Just doing my job.” His fingers curled slightly, the fabric crinkling under his grip. “Though I do wonder…” His voice was a purr now, the kind that made her stomach clench. “How long do you think you can keep this up? Driving around, pretending you’re still in charge?”

She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her throat. She wanted to slap his hand away, to tell him to go to hell. But the truth was, she was outnumbered. Outmatched. The world had moved on without her.

Then, without warning, he pulled something from his belt, a small, sleek canister. Before she could react, he held the nozzle towards her face and sprayed.

The fine mist hit Cami’s face like a cool, invisible hand. She blinked, her vision swimming for a moment as the scent, sweet, almost cloying, filled her nose. Her thoughts, sharp and defiant just seconds ago, began to blur at the edges, like a radio tuning out of a station. The officer’s voice, once grating, now sounded… nice. Warm.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, his tone shifting into something softer, more daddy-like. “Just let it work, sweetheart.”

Cami’s lips parted, but the words she wanted to say, the protests, the anger, wouldn’t come. Instead, a slow, heavy warmth spread through her, pooling low in her belly. She shifted in her seat, her thighs pressing together as a strange, tingling pressure built between her legs. She whimpered, her fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt.

The officer chuckled, watching her with amusement. “There we go. That’s my good little driver.”

And then, oh. A rush of warmth flooded her, sudden and undeniable. Her pull-ups darkened instantly, the fabric swelling against her as she wet herself without a single thought to stop it. The sensation was delicious, warm, comforting, like sinking into a bath. She let out a soft, embarrassed giggle, her face flushing as she realized what she’d done. But the shame was distant, muffled, like it belonged to someone else.

“Uh-oh,” the officer teased, his grin widening. “Looks like someone needed that change after all.” He reached for her seatbelt, clicking it open with a sharp snick. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Cami didn’t resist as he helped her out of the car. The world felt soft around the edges, her movements slow and unsteady. The officer, Daddy, a little voice in her head corrected, wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. She leaned into him, her giggles bubbling up as she took small, wobbly steps toward his patrol car.

“D-Daddy?” she slurred, the word tasting strange and right on her tongue.

“That’s me, baby girl,” he said, opening the back door. He guided her inside, then reached for the seatbelt, buckling her in with practiced ease. The leather seat was cool against her damp pull-ups, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way Daddy was looking at her, like she was something precious. Something his.

“W-where we goin’?” she asked, her voice small and sing-song.

Daddy shut the door and leaned in through the open window, his voice gentle. “Home, sweetheart. To your new nursery. I’ve got a nice, thick diaper waiting for you there. And maybe a bottle, if you’re a good girl.”

Cami’s giggles filled the car, high and breathless. She kicked her feet, the wet crinkle of her pull-ups loud in the quiet. The old Cami, the one who’d been angry, defiant was gone. All that was left was this: a sweet little girl.

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[regressionschool]

Exchange Student male edition

The first time it happened, your hands shook. You stood in the dim glow of the paper lanterns, the scent of tatami mats and green tea thick in the air, and stared at the three girls standing in front of you. Yuki, your host sister, giggled as she tugged at the hem of her tank top, her diaper, printed with cartoon bears and stars, crinkling softly beneath her. Beside her, her friends Aiko and Mei shifted, their own diapers rustling as they waited.

"Oniisan, we’re ready for our check," Yuki said, her voice sweet but firm. She didn’t even blush. None of them did.

You swallowed hard. Back home, this would’ve been unthinkable. But here it was just… normal. Or at least, normal for them. Women here were only optionally potty trained, and most, like Yuki and her friends, simply weren’t. It was a cultural quirk you’d read about in the exchange program handbook, but seeing it in person was another thing entirely.

The first few weeks, you’d fumbled through the routine, your face burning as you knelt behind each girl, fingers pressing gently against the thick padding to check for dampness. They’d laugh at your flustered expressions, teasing you in broken English. "Oniisan, you’re so red!" Aiko had giggled once, wiggling her hips as you hesitated. "Do we make you nervous?"

You started with Mei, her diaper dry but warm from her body heat. She swayed slightly as you worked, her balance unsteady. "Good girl," you murmured, more to yourself than to her. She beamed, as if your approval was the highest praise.

Then Aiko. Her diaper was damp, the padding swollen with use. She bit her lip as you peeled the tapes away, her face a mix of embarrassment and… pride? "I tried to hold it," she admitted, her voice small. "But it’s hard when we’re laughing so much."

You nodded, unfolding a fresh diaper from the stack Yuki had set out. The routine was becoming second nature, lift, clean, powder, tape. But the intimacy of it still sent a strange thrill through you. They were letting you do this. Trusting you.

Finally, Yuki. She turned her head to look at you over her shoulder, her dark eyes glinting. "You’re getting faster, Oniisan," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. Her diaper was dry, but you could feel the heat radiating off her skin. You hesitated, your thumb brushing against the plastic backing. She didn’t stop you.

By the end of the night, your hands were steady. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by a strange sense of… pride. They needed you. Not just for this, but for the way you’d learned to braid Yuki’s hair, or how you’d started carrying their heavy bags when they went out. It was a role, a responsibility. And damn if it didn’t feel good.

As you tucked them into their futons, each of them now fresh and dry in new diapers, you couldn’t help but smile. Yuki reached up, pulling you down by your shirt until your ear was close to her lips. "You’re getting better at this," she whispered. "Maybe we’ll keep you around."

And just like that, your exchange year in Japan became the best experience of your life.

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[regressionschool]

The sun filtered through the leaves of the old oak tree, casting dappled shadows over the colorful picnic blanket spread across the grass. It was the kind of day that felt like it belonged in a storybook, warm, lazy, and full of the kind of peace that only comes when the world feels far away. But for the three women lounging on the blanket, the world was far away. Or at least, the world they used to know was.

Lena, the one with the tiara perched crookedly on her head, giggled as she kicked her legs high into the air. Her pink T-shirt, adorned with cartoon unicorns, rode up just enough to reveal the thick, crinkly diaper beneath. She sucked on her pacifier with a contented hum, her toes wiggling in the sunlight. Beside her, Mia, her blonde pigtails tied with ribbons, clapped her hands together, her own diaper squishing softly with the movement. She let out a high-pitched giggle, her pacifier bobbing as she laughed, and pointed at a butterfly fluttering past. "Look, Lenny! A fly-fly!" she lisped, her voice thick with the pacifier in her mouth.

The third, Sophie, was the quietest of the trio, but only because her mouth was too busy around her pacifier to form words. She lay on her back, her legs scissoring in the air as she cooed at the clouds. Her diaper, printed with tiny blue dinosaurs, was already swelling between her legs. She didn’t seem to notice, or care. The warmth spreading through the thick padding only made her squirm happily, her hips rocking in a way that was equal parts innocent and obscene.

Lena suddenly rolled onto her stomach, her diaper crinkling loudly as she propped herself up on her elbows. She popped her pacifier out just long enough to say, "I’m gonna make a big mess, just like Mommy said!" And with that, she let out a soft, satisfied groan, her body relaxing as her diaper did its job. The scent of talc and something far less pleasant filled the air, but none of them so much as flinched. Mia clapped again, her own diaper now sagging with the weight of her own accident. "Me too! Me too!" she chimed, her voice muffled as she shoved her pacifier back in.

Sophie, finally pulling hers out, let out a string of babbling nonsense that ended with a triumphant, "Ta-da!" She patted her soaked diaper with both hands, as if presenting it as a prize. The three of them dissolved into giggles, rolling and writhing on the blanket, their diapers squelching and crinkling with every movement.

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of their laughter, the rustle of leaves, and the occasional crinkle of a diaper being adjusted or patted. The world had narrowed down to this: the sun, the blanket, the pacifiers, and the thick, comforting diapers between their legs. It was perfect. It was right.

Then, Lena froze.

Her pacifier slipped from her lips, her wide eyes locking onto her hands. The tiara on her head suddenly felt ridiculous. The diaper between her legs, soaked, heavy, felt like a violation. A memory flickered at the edges of her mind: This isn’t me. This isn’t...

"W-what the hell?" Her voice was raw, unused. She scrambled to her knees, her diaper squelching ominously beneath her. "What is this? What did you..." She looked down at herself, at the cartoonish shirt, the ridiculous diaper, the pacifier still dangling from a ribbon around her neck. Her face twisted in horror. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?!"

Mia and Sophie blinked at her, their expressions slow to shift from confusion to concern. Sophie’s pacifier fell from her mouth. "Lena?" she said, her voice small, uncertain. The spell was breaking, but not fast enough. Not for all of them.

Lena’s hands trembled as she clawed at the tapes of her diaper. "Get this off me! Get it off!" Her voice rose to a shriek, the sound sharp and jarring against the peaceful afternoon. Mia’s lower lip began to tremble, her own diaper suddenly feeling foreign, wrong. Sophie’s eyes darted between them, her mind a whirlwind of fog and flickering realization.

And then....

Lena’s scream tore through the air, a sound of pure, unfiltered terror.

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[regressionschool]

Sticky Bella

The soft crinkle of Bella’s diaper filled the cozy living room as she wiggled on the plush white play mat, her fingers gripping the plastic spoon. The bowl of applesauce sat in front of her, half-empty, its sweet scent mingling with the faint, musky aroma of her already damp diaper. She had been trying to feed herself for the past ten minutes, but most of the applesauce had ended up smeared across her cheeks, her bib, and even a little on the book beside her, but Bella didn’t seem to care. She giggled as she missed her mouth again, the spoon clinking against her teeth.

Anna, lounging on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, watched the scene with a smirk. She twirled a lock of her dark hair around her finger, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of Bella’s struggle. “Oh, Bella,” Anna sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “I remember when you used to be so graceful. You’d never let a drop of wine touch your lips without a perfectly timed sip. And now look at you, covered in baby food, sitting in a diaper like the little mess you’ve always been.”

Bella paused, her spoon hovering near her mouth, and turned her head to look at Anna. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with a mix of embarrassment and defiance. She knew Anna was right. She had been a bitch when she was with Tom, cold, controlling, always looking down on everyone else. But now? Now she was the one on the floor, her dignity as mushy as the applesauce on her bib. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. The warmth between her legs, the way the thick padding hugged her, the way every little movement made the plastic crinkle, it all felt right. Like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Mmm, yummy,” Bella cooed, deliberately missing her mouth again and letting a glob of applesauce plop onto her thigh. She giggled as it oozed down her leg, soaking into the colorful print of her diaper. “See, Anna? I can feed myself.”

Anna rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Oh, bravo, Bella. You’ve mastered the art of making a mess. Tom always said you were a natural at that.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Do you even remember how to use a fork? Or has RegressionSchool turned your brain to mush too?”

Bella stuck out her tongue, a childish gesture that would’ve horrified her old self. “I like mush,” she said, squirming a little. The pressure in her bladder had been building for a while now, and the way Anna was talking down to her only made it worse. There was something thrilling about it—the way Anna’s words stung, the way she acted like Bella was nothing more than a silly little girl. It made Bella’s heart race, her face warm. She shifted again, her thighs pressing together, and felt the warmth spread.

Anna noticed. Of course she did. “Oh, Bella,” she said, her voice dropping into a mocking sing-song. “Are you wet already? Or are you just that excited to see me?” She tilted her head, her smirk growing. “You know, Tom told me all about how you used to hate being treated like this. How you’d throw a fit if anyone even suggested you were anything less than perfect.” She laughed, a light, airy sound. “And now here you are, sitting in a soggy diaper, eating like a toddler. What would your old self think?”

Bella’s breath hitched. The words should’ve hurt. They did hurt, a little. But the sting was overshadowed by the way her body reacted, the way her muscles relaxed, the way the warmth between her legs grew heavier, more insistent. She could feel the diaper swelling, the padding pressing against her skin. She bit her lip, her spoon forgotten, and wiggled her hips. The crinkle was loud, unmistakable.

Anna’s eyes flicked down, then back up, her smirk turning downright wicked. “Oh, honey. You are wet, aren’t you?” She clucked her tongue. “And here I thought you were just bad at feeding yourself. But no, you’re just a leaky little baby, aren’t you?”

Bella whimpered, her face burning. She was wet. Soaking, actually. The applesauce, the teasing, the way Anna was looking at her, it had all pushed her over the edge. She could feel the dampness seeping into every layer, the way the diaper hugged her tighter the fuller it got. She should’ve been mortified. But instead, she just… giggled.

“Wet Bella,” she said, her voice small, almost a whisper. She patted her diaper with one hand, the plastic crinkling loudly. “All wet.”

Anna threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the room. “Oh, Tom would love to see you now. The great Bella, reduced to a giggling, diaper-soaked mess.” She shook her head, but there was no real cruelty in her eyes, just amusement, and maybe a little bit of satisfaction. “You deserve this, you know. After the way you treated him. After the way you treated me.”

Bella nodded, still giggling. She did deserve it. And the worst, ,or best, part? She loved it. The way the diaper squished when she moved, the way Anna’s words made her feel small and helpless and wanted. She rocked back and forth, her hands pressing into the mat, and let out another happy little sound. “More,” she said, not even sure if she was asking for more applesauce or more teasing.

Anna sighed, but there was a fondness in it now. “You’re hopeless,” she said, standing up and walking over. She crouched down, her face level with Bella’s, and reached out to wipe a smear of applesauce from Bella’s cheek with her thumb. “But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it?” Her voice softened, just a little. “You like being hopeless. You like being a mess.”

Bella didn’t answer. She just leaned into Anna’s touch, her eyes half-lidded, her body relaxed. The diaper was heavy now, so heavy, and every little movement sent a fresh wave of warmth through her. She could feel it—how right this was. How good.

Anna pulled her hand back and stood up, shaking her head again. “Alright, baby,” she said, her voice back to its teasing lilt. “Why don’t you finish your snack before you make another mess? Or do you need me to feed you like the little girl you are?”

Bella grinned, her fingers already reaching for the spoon again. She missed her mouth on purpose, letting the applesauce drip down her chin. “Feed me?” she asked, her voice sweet, her eyes sparkling.

Anna groaned, but she was smiling. “You’re impossible.”

And Bella, crinkling and giggling and so very wet, knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

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[regressionschool]

Lisa's new World

part 5 and 6

[regressionschool]

Old Habits

Old Habits

The hallway was quiet, save for the soft rustle of Amanda’s diaper as she waddled toward the bathroom, her long auburn hair swaying with each step. She wasn’t heading inside.no, that would be too much like a big girl, and big girls used the potty properly. But old habits die hard, and even though she hadn’t sat on a toilet in years, her body still carried her toward the bathroom door, as if drawn by some deep, instinctual memory.

Jake watched from the living room, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "What are you doing, Princess?" he called, his voice laced with amusement.

Amanda paused, glancing over her shoulder, her cheeks already flushed. "Nothing, Daddy," she mumbled, though the way her diaper sagged between her legs told a different story. She bit her lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gray socks pressing into the carpet. The urge was undeniable, and she knew there was no fighting it. With a soft sigh, she squatted right there in front of the bathroom door, her hands gripping the hem of her white T-shirt as she bore down.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. It never failed to amuse him, how his little girl, who had long since forgotten how to use the potty, still felt the need to be near it when nature called. As if the mere proximity to the bathroom made it okay to let go, even if she was just going to fill her diaper like the toddler she was at heart.

Amanda’s face scrunched up as she pushed, the diaper crinkling loudly beneath her. A warm, mushy squish filled the air, followed by the unmistakable scent of a big poopy. She whimpered, her toes curling in her socks as the diaper swelled, the weight pressing against her bottom. It was messy, it was stinky, and it was perfect.

Jake took a step closer, inhaling the thick, musky aroma with a grin. "Mmm, someone’s making a stinker," he teased, his voice warm. "Right in front of the bathroom, too. Almost like a big girl."

Amanda groaned, her face burning. "Daddy, stop," she whined, but there was no real protest in her voice. She wiggled in place, the diaper squelching with every movement, the mess spreading thick and heavy between her legs. It was embarrassing, sure, but it was also… nice. Comforting, even. Like her body knew exactly what it was doing, even if her mind was a little fuzzy on the details.

Jake crouched down behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "You know, Princess," he murmured, his breath warm against her neck, "it’s kind of cute. You don’t even remember how to use the potty, but you still waddle over here like you’re gonna try."

Amanda pouted, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. She couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he was being so sweet. Besides, he wasn’t wrong. There was something right about it. the way her body just knew where to go, even if the rest of her had moved on. She let out a final, satisfied sigh as the last of her business filled the diaper, the weight now undeniable as it sagged between her thighs.

"All done?" Jake asked, already knowing the answer. The diaper was full, the scent thick and pungent in the air.

She nodded, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "Yeah… I think I made a really stinky poopy," she admitted, her voice small.

Jake stood up, offering her his hand. "Well, come on then, messy girl. Let’s get you to the nursery for a change." His tone was light, but there was a note of authority in it, one that Amanda found impossibly comforting.

She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. The diaper crinkled loudly with the movement, the squish of her mess echoing down the hallway as she waddled after him. He ruffled her hair affectionately as they reached the nursery door. "Now, up on the changing table, Princess. Let’s get you fresh and clean."

Amanda obeyed, climbing up onto the padded surface with practiced ease. She lay back, her legs kicking slightly as Jake undid the tapes of her messy diaper. The cool air hit her skin, and she squirmed, her face flushing as the full extent of her mess was revealed. Jake didn’t so much as flinch, though. He simply grabbed a wipe and got to work, his touch gentle but thorough.

"You’re such a good girl for me," he murmured, cleaning her up with efficient, soothing strokes. "Even if you do insist on squatting in the hallway like a little toddler who almost remembers how to be a big girl."

Amanda giggled, her embarrassment melting away under his care. "I can’t help it, Daddy! It’s just… habit."

Jake chuckled, finishing up and reaching for a fresh diaper. "Well, it’s a cute habit," he admitted, lifting her hips to slide the clean diaper beneath her. "But next time, maybe aim for the nursery, huh?"

Amanda grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "No promises, Daddy."

Jake shook his head, smiling as he fastened the new diaper snugly around her waist. "That’s my girl."

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[regressionschool]

An Important Lesson

The crayon snapped in Kira’s fingers with a satisfying crack. She grinned, tossing the broken pieces onto the table where her half-finished coloring sheet lay abandoned. The letters at the top of the page K-I-R-A were barely recognizable, scribbled over in angry, jagged lines. She didn’t want to color. She didn’t want to sit still. And most of all, she didn’t want to admit how much she liked the thick, crinkly diaper tucked under her plaid skirt, already damp from the apple juice she’d gulped down at snack time.

Mr. Thompson didn’t even look up from his desk. "Kira," he said, his voice calm but firm, "that’s the third crayon this week."

Kira stuck out her tongue, swinging her legs under the table. The movement made the diaper shift between her thighs, the padding squishing slightly. She loved that feeling, the way it made her waddle, the way it reminded her she didn’t have to be big here. But today, she was in a mood. A bratty mood. "They’re stupid anyway," she muttered, kicking the table leg.

The classroom was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional crinkle of a diaper from one of the other littles. Kira glanced around, her lips curling. Most of them were obediently coloring, their tongues poking out in concentration, their diapers peeking out from under skirts or shorts. Boring.

Mr. Thompson finally set down his pen. "Kira," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument, "you know the rules."

She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered. Rules. Rules meant consequences. And consequences meant...

"Yeah, yeah," she huffed, crossing her arms over her blouse. The fabric pulled tight over her chest, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to see her. To notice. "What’re you gonna do? Spank me?"

Mr. Thompson didn’t react. He just stood, his chair scraping back, and gestured toward the couch in the corner. The lesson couch.

Kira’s stomach twisted. She bit her lip, torn between the urge to bolt and the part of her that wanted this. Needed it. The diaper between her legs felt heavier suddenly, the wetness spreading as her body reacted to the thought.

She didn’t move fast enough. Mr. Thompson’s hand closed around her wrist, gentle but unyielding, and guided her toward the couch. Kira’s breath hitched as he sat, pulling her over his lap. The skirt rode up, exposing the babyish pattern of her diaper, thick, white, with little purple cricles printed along the edges. The tapes were secured snugly, the plastic backing crinkling as she squirmed.

"Kira," Mr. Thompson said, his voice low, "you’re better than this."

The first smack landed before she could retort. The sound echoed through the room, sharp and final. Kira gasped, her fingers clawing at the couch cushion. The sting radiated through the diaper, but beneath it, something else unfurled, something warm and needy. She whimpered, her hips shifting involuntarily, the padding squishing against her.

"You don’t get to decide when you follow the rules," Mr. Thompson continued, his hand coming down again. Kira yelped, but she didn’t fight. She couldn’t. The diaper was warm now, the wetness spreading, and every smack sent a jolt through her, making her feel small and safe and seen.

By the time he stopped, Kira’s cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps. The diaper was heavy between her legs, the wetness clinging to her skin. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay right there, draped over his lap, where everything was simple and she didn’t have to be anything but little.

Mr. Thompson helped her up, his touch careful. "Better?"

Kira nodded, her throat tight. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, but they weren’t sad. They were the kind that came when you were so full of feeling you didn’t know what to do with yourself. She sniffled, rubbing her face against her sleeve like a child.

"Good," he said, patting her head. "Now, let’s try coloring again. And this time, no breaking the crayons."

Kira nodded, her fingers twisting in the hem of her skirt. She didn’t trust her voice yet. But she didn’t need to. The diaper, the warmth, the way her bottom still tingled, it all told her everything she needed to know. She was little. She was safe.

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[regressionschool]

Lisa's new World

I'm sorry for the image compression, that seems to be a tumblr problem.

[regressionschool]

All According to Plan

The door creaked open, and Jake stepped into the room, his smirk widening as he took in the sight before him. Charlotte, was sprawled on the nursery rug, her diaper a swollen, sagging mess between her thighs, her fingers absently rubbing at the soaked plastic. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, and a trail of drool glistened on her chin. She didn’t even look up at first, too lost in a blissful haze.

"Hey there, Lottie," Jake said, his voice dripping with amusement as he crouched beside her. "Miss me?"

Charlotte blinked slowly, her lips curling into a dumb, dopey grin. "J-Jake?" she slurred, her words thick and sloppy. "Wha’ you doin’ hewe?"

Jake chuckled, reaching out to tap the bulging front of her diaper. The squish was obscene, the plastic soggy under his touch. "Oh, you know. Just checking in on my favorite little diaper slut." His fingers traced the tapes at her hips, his touch possessive. "You’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you? Filling up your diaper all on your own."

Charlotte giggled, her hips wiggling as another trickle of warmth escaped her, soaking the already drenched padding. "I dunno," she admitted, her voice high and breathy. "Jus’ feel nice…"

"Mmm, I bet it does," Jake murmured, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. "You know, Lottie, you ever wonder why it feels so nice? Why you can’t stop peeing yourself? Why you get so dumb and horny in that thing?"

Charlotte’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers still rubbing lazy circles over her diaper. "I-I dunno…" she whined, her bladder aching with the need to go again. "Jus’… is."

Jake’s smirk turned predatory. "No, baby. It’s not just anything." He pulled out his phone, flipping through it before turning the screen toward her. "See these? The Tumblr blogs? The ads? The hypnos?"

Charlotte’s eyes struggled to focus on the images, familiar pictures of women in diapers, the same ones that had haunted her late-night scrolling. Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could speak, Jake continued.

"I sent them to you," he admitted, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Every single one. That first ad you saw? The one that got you all hot and bothered? That was me. And those diapers you just had to try?" He chuckled darkly. "Special order. Laced with something… extra. Something to make sure you stayed my good little Pampers packer."

Charlotte’s breath hitched, her mind struggling to process his words. But the chemical haze in her system made it impossible to hold onto the horror, the betrayal. All she could focus on was the warmth spreading between her legs, the way Jake’s voice made her ache.

"You-you made me.... this?" she started, but her words dissolved into a moan as another gush of pee filled her diaper, the wetness seeping against her skin.

Jake’s grin was triumphant. "Oh, Lottie." His hand slid down, pressing firmly against her soaked padding. "I told you years ago I’d have you in diapers. Did you really think I’d let you forget?"

Charlotte whimpered, her hips bucking against his touch. She should be angry. She should fight back. But the chemicals, the hypnosis, the pleasure, it all made her brain too fuzzy to resist. All she could do was giggle dumbly, her fingers clawing at her diaper as she peed herself again, her body trembling with need.

"P-please," she begged, her voice small and needy. "I-I need cummies…"

Jake’s laugh was low and dark as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Oh, baby," he murmured. "You’ll get them. But first…" His hand pressed harder. "You’re gonna be such a good girl for Daddy."

Charlotte’s world narrowed to the sensationthe way her mind melted further with every word. She didn’t fight it. She didn’t want to.

She just giggled, her body trembling as she whispered, "Yes, Daddy…"

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