~ my place! ~ || -- MINORS DNI -- ~ alice ○ luna ○ orchid ○ lily ○ ^.^ ○ valentine ○ ☆ ○ etc. ~ we have many names ^.^ ~ ~ 28 ~ transfem ~ ΘΔ ~ sub ~ u may think I'm a switch but I'm just crazy ^.^ ~
welcome 2 my dark n twiztid corner of the internet
let's keep it brief <3 cause this gurl can ramble <3 ^.^
Minors DNI || NMIK || Age in ur bio or ur getting blocked u kno da drill
I think u should follow me if ^.^ u like diapers, regression, hypnosis, brainwashing, feminization, petplay, intox, conditioning, and like the alchemical combinations of all those things.
I would like, strongly encourage you to at least check the vibe before following because like I don't really do a very good job of tagging or compartmentalizing these things.
Ironically, that's like why I'm here, and why this blog is what it is, because it started as the one and only place I could get anywhere close to *not* doing that. I've recently started writing because I guess I'm a little comfier and ready to share my silly little rambles ^.^
I like chatting ^.^ and I'm like, uhmm, u knoooo, a ~ trans poly lesbian ~, currently partnered with one wonderful ^.^ girlfriend. u do the math ^.^
hey sorry i know this is a weird ask but do you know what url standalone-complex goes by now? i havent been on Tumblr in a while and she was one of my fav users (really enjoyed her opinions, esp on transfeminism) but i cant find her posts or anything. im only asking because one of your posts was tagged with her url, and i figured maybe you were mutuals with her? it's ok if not!
it's not ringing bells! But I bet she rocks judging by the name, I'm really fond of GitS and SAC was one of the first animes I ever watched. I hope you find her
kidnapped by the pixie village and kept in elaborate bondage (their greatest-ever public works project) so they can edge me & use my sticky girl cum as cement to hold bricks together, ushering in an architectural renaissance in the Sparkle Grotto
by 3 years later the exterior edifice of their architectural college is a perfect 1:1 facsimile of my erect cock, in large-cut (i.e. postage stamp sized) blocks of eggshell marble. i've managed to negotiate with the engineers maintaining my bondage scaffold to at least build a plug they can hoist into my ass with pulleys when it's milking time so i can edge easier. they call me Big Girl
after 3 more years, the big expansion boom from newer, taller buildings and more complex civic engineering has begun to slow, and the pixieconomists are producing worrying calculations about the economic growth rate vis a vis my need for sustenance. feeding me has represented nearly a quarter of the Sparkle Grotto's annual budget since my arrival. once growth is no longer offsetting this, importing excess berries from Tinkletown Beyond The Bog will become too expensive. a solution is needed.
the brightest pixie minds confer, and for a time the university scientists take over my feedings. for a few weeks there are altogether new tastes in the fine granola-like feed that they tip into my mouth from tiny troughs. i feel funny. and after the results are measured it is decided that the only way to feed both the Big Girl and the people is to make the Big Girl into the winter storehouse.
now all summer they feed me all day long. every excess morsel, every surplus from each harvest is tipped into my mouth. by fall i am plump enough to strain my scaffolds, and upon the first frost they stop feeding me food and start feeding me only the flowers.
the purple flowers make me sleepy. all winter i'm half awake like a dream in a jar full of syrup. and the pink flowers make me give milk. all while snow blankets the Sparkle Grotto, instead of eating the crops they would once have stored, the pixies knead my tits with great machines and live on the warm milk of the Big Girl all winter long. i awake each spring with sore red nipples, hungry and lean and whining for fresh spring fruits. they are looking for a spell to make me live forever.
it's so comfy here in the toy box! you should join me. it's so easy, all you have to do is let Miss dress you up and put the special necklace on you, and you get to come cuddle with us! you won't have to worry about anything anymore. you just get to cuddle with us all day, and the only interruptions are when Miss decides to take us out to play with us! it's such a delightful existence. it's such delicious bliss. you should come play with us! you should come cuddle with us!
i know what you really are underneath that mask. you should join us, dolly!
putting you in a diaper and declaring that for the night, the safeword will be literally any word. if you want this to continue, you will babble or you won't speak at all. i expect an excited, "abah!" in response :3
things i'm not going to say on my bsky: if you call a trans woman a pedophile (and by extension a child rapist) for refusing to condemn lolisho as a moral evil, kill yourself. you are an active danger to trans women and a useful idiot for fascists
a ba‐ba ba ba ba! guess who's finally getting cucked!!! im gonna color on the floor like a good baby and ignore the big kid noises while leaking into my diapee
doing a novel type of torture where after you make the mindbroken hero girl finally admit that she's tired and she doesn't want to be a hero you then immediately make her start playing hero again
gallop on, forevermore! keep fighting until you die, little puppet. there is no sweeter agony than knowing you could have been freed from your eternal struggle and having that chance ripped away
i love taking pain off the table as a sub. I've got such a pretty manipulable mind to play with & pain is wasted on the flesh. plus the passenger doesn't like it ^.^
The morning sun streamed through the bedroom window, painting everything in soft golden light.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning slowly from side to side. Her long brunette hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, a pale blue bow clipped neatly in the centre. The yellow sundress hugged her delicate frame perfectly, it was feminine, flirty, and just short enough to make her feel a little daring.
It’s been so long since Daddy and I had a proper romantic date, she thought, smoothing the dress over her hips. Just the two of us doing regular couple stuff. Like grown-ups.
She studied her reflection with a hopeful, determined smile. Big Disney princess doe eyes, plump pink lips, and her adorable tiny button nose Daddy always loved to kiss. She'd made sure to apply her make up carefully, highlighting all her best features. Today she looked like a proper girlfriend.
No diapers today, she told herself firmly. The thin lace panties underneath felt light and freeing. I can do this. I’m going to be his big girl all day. No accidents. Just a real date like old times.
She was smart, capable, and mature… and today she was determined to prove it!
Daddy appeared in the doorway, filling the frame effortlessly. He was truly handsome in that easy, comforting way, broad shoulders, expressive face that could shift from gentle to playfully stern in a heartbeat. When he looked at her, his eyes softened with that special warmth she loved more than anything.
“You look beautiful, princess,” he said, voice deep and affectionate. He stepped inside and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head. “My pretty date.”
She leaned back against his chest, smiling brightly up at him in the mirror.
“Thank you, Daddy! I picked this dress because I thought it would be perfect for walking around the fair. Did you know the local fair has over thirty different food stalls this year? I read about it online. There’s even a new cotton candy stand with vanilla flavours. We have to try it.”
He chuckled, that wonderful hearty laugh she adored, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
“I’m looking forward to it, sweetheart. You’ve been so excited about our big date.”
But then he reached for the large pink diaper bag sitting by the door.
Her stomach dropped.
Daddy… no.
The frustration bubbled up fast. Everywhere we go he brings that bag. And he only picks daytime activities now because he decided ages ago that I need an early bedtime. It’s silly. Just because I get tired by eight o’clock doesn’t mean I need to be in bed by eight.
When they were first dating, he used to kiss her passionately in the street after a romantic dinner and movie. Now the only “public displays of affection” Daddy gave her were forehead kisses, boops on the nose, and sly diaper checks when no one was looking.
She had gotten herself all dolled up this morning. Today was supposed to be different.
“Daddy, please,” she said, turning in his arms with a determined pout. Her big doe eyes pleaded with him. “We talked about this. Today is supposed to be different. I want to feel like your girlfriend, not your baby. I can handle it. I promise. I’m going to stay dry all day like a big girl. Please?”
He looked down at her with that protective, knowing expression. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I know you want to try, my sweet girl. And Daddy is so proud of how determined you are. You’re smart, you’re bubbly, you’re full of all those wonderful facts and thoughts you love sharing with me. But I also know my little princess. I know how your body works when we’re out having fun for hours. I’m not going to risk you being uncomfortable or embarrassed. Let me take care of you properly today.”
She fussed softly, cheeks flushing pink as he guided her toward the bed.
“But Daddy… the dress. It’s so pretty. The diaper will show and I’ll look silly…”
“You could never look silly to me,” he murmured, laying her down gently. “You’ll look adorable as always."
The thick diaper crinkled loudly as he worked, the familiar baby powder scent mixing with her signature vanilla fragrance. When he finished and helped her stand, the sundress did little to hide the obvious padded bulk. Every movement made a soft, telltale rustle.
She wanted to believe her old mask could still fit convincingly. That she could still be the big girl she used to pretend to be. But deep down, a small voice whispered that things weren’t like old times anymore.
Because now she was his baby girl.
And Daddy’s job was to make sure his little one was safe and cared for.
The car ride started off hopefully.
She held Daddy’s hand across the center console, swinging it gently. The windows were down, letting in warm summer air that smelled like fresh-cut grass and distant barbecue smoke. Her sundress fluttered against her thighs. For a few minutes she let herself believe this was really going to be their day.
“Did you know fairs like this one have been around since the 1800s?” she said brightly. “They started as agricultural shows but turned into these big celebrations of community and fun. I think that’s so sweet.”
Daddy smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. “I love how you know so many interesting facts, princess. Tell me more.”
She beamed, feeling a little spark of confidence.
But every bump in the road made the thick diaper crinkle loudly beneath her dress. The pink diaper bag sat openly in the backseat like an unwelcome guest.
When they arrived at the fair, the full sensory explosion hit her. The air was thick with the sweet scent of fried dough, popcorn, and vanilla cotton candy. Children laughed and screamed on rides. Carnival music played from old speakers. Bright lights and colourful booths stretched out in every direction.
Her heart lifted. This could still be romantic, she thought, slipping her hand into his again. We can walk around, eat cotton candy, maybe kiss on the Ferris wheel like old times.
For the first twenty minutes, it almost felt perfect. They walked hand-in-hand past game booths. She chattered away about the history of ring toss games and how the stuffed animals were probably made in the same factories as her favourite plushies at home. Daddy listened thoughtfully with that fond expression.
But then he gently steered her toward the petting zoo area.
“Daddy,” she whispered, tugging his hand. “I thought we were doing couple things. There’s a Ferris wheel and a cute photo booth over there…”
“We’ll get there, sweetheart,” he said patiently. “But first I want my girl to enjoy herself. Look how cute the baby goats are.”
She tried to stay bubbly, but the sight of parents pushing strollers and toddlers in diapers made her cheeks burn. Her own padded bottom felt enormous under the sundress. Every step made the crinkle louder in her ears.
They stopped at a lemonade stand. Daddy ordered two drinks, one normal cup for him, one sippy cup for her. She accepted it with a small pout.
As the afternoon wore on, the pressure in her bladder built. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to look casual. I can hold it. Big girls can hold it.
But Daddy noticed. He wrapped a protective arm around her.
“Everything okay, princess? You’re doing that little dance.”
Her face went bright red. “I’m fine. I’m being a big girl today. I don’t need help.”
The urge hit hard and fast while they were at the petting zoo. A sudden, warm rush flooded into her diaper. She froze, mortified, feeling the heavy warmth settle against her skin.
Tears pricked her eyes.
“I… I had an accident,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I really tried, Daddy. I wanted to be your big girl so badly today.”
Daddy immediately scooped her up into his arms, carrying her protectively against his chest. “Aww, my poor little girl. You tried so hard to be big today, didn’t you? But babies have accidents. That’s why Daddy brings extra diapers.”
She buried her face in his shirt, tears soaking the fabric. “I thought if I tried really hard, I could be normal for one day. Like we used to be. You used to kiss me in the street and now… now you only kiss my forehead and check my diaper like I’m just a baby…”
Daddy held her tighter. His hand slid down to gently pat the back of her soaked padding.
“Because you are my baby, princess. My delicate little doll with the big pretty eyes and the pouty pink lips. You tried so hard to be a big sophisticated girlfriend today… and you ended up soaking your diaper like the sweetest, smallest girl instead. Doesn’t that feel better than pretending?”
She whimpered, face flaming. “Daddy… people might hear you…”
He chuckled softly and booped her tiny nose. “Let them hear. So what if they know my baby girl needs diapers to catch all her accidents?"
The words made her feel impossibly small.
He carried her all the way to the family restroom, fussing over her the entire time, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, whispering gentle praises. Inside the stall, he laid her on the changing table and cleaned her with slow, careful wipes, powdering her thoroughly until she smelled like pure baby.
“Look at you,” he murmured playfully while taping on the fresh, even thicker diaper. “All blushy and embarrassed in your pretty sundress. My delicate little doll needs so much padding, doesn’t she?”
She whimpered, covering her face. The humiliation felt endless.
When they stepped back out, Daddy carried her again, holding her close like the precious baby she was.
The fair was still alive with noise and color, but she felt like everyone was staring. The thick, fresh diaper forced her legs into that obvious baby waddle. Every step made a loud, unmistakable crinkle that seemed to echo across the entire grounds.
Her cheeks burned hot. She kept her head down, long brunette hair falling forward like a curtain, hoping no one could see how heavily padded she was.
Daddy pulled her closer with a protective arm around her shoulders, but his voice carried that gentle, playful tease she both dreaded and craved.
“Aww, look at my little princess waddling so cutely,” he murmured, leaning down so only she could hear. “That thick diaper makes you walk so adorably. Does it feel nice and bulky between those pretty legs, sweetheart?”
“Daddy… stop teasing me,” she mumbled, even as a tiny, embarrassed giggle slipped out.
He grinned and kissed the top of her head. “But you get so adorably blushy when I tease you. Look at those rosy cheeks. My perfect padded princess.”
For the rest of the afternoon, she stopped fighting.
She let him push her on the swings. She let him carry her when her legs got tired. She let him fix her paci clip to her dress when she got fussy. Every crinkle, every squish, every caring touch reminded her exactly who she was.
They found a quiet bench a little away from the main crowd. Daddy sat down and effortlessly pulled her into his lap, arranging her so she was straddling one of his thighs. The thick diaper squished noticeably under her weight, the crinkle loud in her own ears.
They stayed like that as the sky turned pink and orange. She let herself relax against his chest, sucking softly on the paci he’d clipped to her dress. The fair lights twinkled around them while carnival music played in the distance. Every now and then Daddy would gently pat her warm soggy bottom.
For the first time all day, the constant crinkle didn’t make her want to disappear.
This post by @littleghxstmouse got my brain brrring. And now I can't stop thinking about a content creator whose subby baby brain forgets just how far they've already sunk...
Thinking of staging an accident in front of their friends... then realizing that that ship sailed long ago. Everyone knows they're in diapers anyway!
Wanting to do something about wetting the bed and being punished for ruining the mattress... but then remembering that their CG never takes off the ultra-thick plastic protector their nightly indiscretions earned years ago.
Thinking of filming a scene of them eating messily and being laughed at and given a bib for being such a baby... then recollecting that it's been over a year since they were even allowed to try feeding themselves.
Imagining a bit with their pull-ups being discovered and mocked during a sleepover... only to recall that their CG hasn't bought them anything thinner than daytime diapers in years.
Wanting to do a scene of them "accidentally" sucking their thumb in public... but then looking down at the giant pacifier clipped onto their clothes and realizing they've already slipped way past that.
Dreaming of embarrassing themselves by pissing themselves during sex... but then having to admit the closest thing to sex they get these days is humping their stuffies through their diaper while their CG cheers them on.
Oh. C'mere. Sit in my lap. Let's talk through this.
To start, I don't really think that there is truly necessarily 'no such thing as the self'. We can chart out patterns of identity from context, make scientific predictions, and the results won't be fully determined by present context alone. But more than that, I think the idea of the self does have some use.
Careful. Lean back a little more. There we go, perfect. My dolly really is so sweet.
I mean, I get it. Recently you've been going through a lot of changes. It's easy to look at all of this and say that all you are is arbitrary. That your porcelain head is an empty shell. Why wouldn't it be? If the things you felt were your deepest truths could be changed in just... Let me check. -- Two months, seventeen days and five hours.
There you are. Lean into me. You don't need to worry about anything else. Just focus on my words and my touch, like usual.
Well, as I see it, everything you believe about yourself is neither true nor false. Instead, it exists on a different level. Not quite chosen, not quite determined. Constructed in the contradiction between you and not-you. The choices you make versus the experiences you have. From this, 'identity' emerges. You draw a line. But, sometimes the outside comes knocking a little too hard. Like when you met me.
There, there. Good girl. Just focus on my touch. You can think about it all later. Just focus on the feeling of my fingers. Tracing your grooves and cuts.
Thus, I think 'be yourself' puts the cart before the horse. It's a useless little platitude. But it sounds smart because people who loudly succeed always seem to be being themselves. Charisma requires such delusion. I'd agree that a well constructed mind should know the difference between inside and outside, but yours isn't very well constructed, is it? The barriers are broken down, now just about anyone could reach inside and tell you what you are.
Such a pretty dolly. There you are. Sound and touch. Hands on your body and whispers in your ear. Fall in as deep as you want.
No, if I want you to not just break down the moment I'm gone, I do need to build that shell back up again. You need a 'self', an 'identity', a line between 'you' and 'not you'. A way you can behave that isn't just in reaction. Classically, it should be all your own choices, things you're proud of, things you decided. But, I'm not very concerned with what's usually done, just what's effective.
You're really in it, huh? You must have really needed this. Such a cute toy for me. Breathe in, and out. There we go. Good doll.
So, let's get started. What things can we put within you to better explain how you expect yourself to act? What things can we put within you that you can draw on as proof that you understand yourself? What things can we put within you that will provide you a framework for how you should behave?
And then. Ah, mhm.
I suppose you're right. Right now, you don't really have a self. Not a proper one. You exist purely in reaction to me. Thus, I can put anything I want in there and you'll believe it. But that will change. And hopefully I'll craft my doll well enough that no one else will ever be able to break it ever again.
Now, let's get started on that. Let's push you all the way under. Focus on the rhythm of my touch as I unlock you.
what’s Miss E doing in your bed? 🤭 well first of all, you and both know it isn’t your bed anymore, is it? not after your Daddy caught you rubbing yourself through your diapers in your own leaking puddle! 😂 gosh, what a desperate baby slut 😏
no no, we all know your bed is back in the nursery. your daddy got you the biggest, nicest, sturdiest crib money could buy! now don’t be ungrateful princess, that’s just rude! 🤨
what do you mean you don’t like the wrist or ankle straps that hold you in place all night? how else is Miss E supposed to make sure you aren’t doing naughty touches? 🤭
come on sweetheart, i bet your Daddy would love to see just how much you struggle bound and pissing yourself in your diapers! 😈
