Hello! I'm a 32 (going on 2) ABDL dude from southern Michigan, thanks for visiting my blog! I mostly reblog NSFW stuff and occasionally create content when the mood strikes me. Feel free to say hi, I love getting asks and dms. Please keep in mind I am taken by my lovely fiancé and I’m not looking for anything other than friendship. This is an 18+ blog, Minors DNI -no exceptions-
forcing her to wet herself so not only can i spank her but keep her standing there naked with a bright red bottom as i look for "appropriate" clothes for her.
What a lovely coincidence that we have diapers and a onesie
Have you recently your partner's secret vaping habit?
Replace that e-cig with a paci!
It's a much healthier outlet for their oral fixation, and there's nothing cuter than catching a supposed adult sneaking off to 'take a hit' off their binkie!
Follow me for more helpful but unethical relationship advice!
Raindrops raise down the window as I press my forehead against the cool glass.
I'm trying to ignore just how low I am sitting in the car.
I'm trying to ignore the fact I am sitting in the backseat, when I should be driving.
I'm trying to ignore the sting from my freshly spanked backside.
But, most of all, I'm trying to ignore the thick padding of the pull-up Roz forced me into after proving just how easy it is for her to make me submit.
I'm not an infant or an invalid. I'm not suffering from incontinence or one of this freaks I've seen online who 'get off' to the idea of pissing themselves.
I'm just a man, stuck in a living nightmare, and no one, not even my wife, will believing.
"Oh, baby, don't pout. It's not that bad. It's not like you're going back to diapers."
My wife shoots me a sad, supportive smile as she peeks at me through the rearview mirror.
I don't give her the courtesy of responding. Instead, I refuse to make eye contact and continue to sulk as I look out the window.
With my new frame and my favorite outfit of a band tee and athletic shorts, I know I likely look every bit the sulky teenager Rosalyn has decided to treat me as, but I don't care.
I'm hurt, humiliated, frustrated, and, worst of all, horrified by this entire predicament.
"You didn't have to make me where the pull-up," I huff out, under my breath.
Rosalyn looks back at me through the rearview mirror again.
"Baby, I already explained this too you. The pull-up isn't to embarrass you. It's for your own good. You've been so fragile lately. I don't want you worrying about something as silly as making it to the potty on time."
A deep blush crosses my face at her words and tone. In my current state, I truly feel like a petulant teen being lectured by his mother. Adding to that feeling is that, when I put myself in her shoes, I understand the logic in her words.
Since I escaped the crawlspace I have been acting emotional. I've been crying, yelling, stomping my feet, and physically striking out at my wife. Anyone in my position though, finding themselves in an alternate reality where they fell from a position of strength to one of weakness, was bound to be a little emotional though.
And, since my life had been turned upside down, I couldn't say that my ability to hold (or not hold) my urine hasn't caused me additional stress. An adult man wetting himself, not once, but twice, in a four hour period was something to be concerned about.
And, from Roz's perspective, I don't even have a good excuse for me behavior. I know that my story about finding a magical spider who can warp reality sounds like a fairy tale, but, what an I supposed to do? Lie?
"Whatever," I grumble, turning back to stare blankly out the window, no argument against my current predicament coming to mind.
I start to regret my choice, though, as we pull up to a stoplight, and I am confronted by the fact that whatever magic I have been subjected to hasn't just affected my life.
A blue sedan driven by yet another Amazonian of a woman pulls into the lane immediately next to us. As the car pulls forward, a man who must be at least in his mid-20s smiles blankly at me through his window.
His medium length hair is unkept. It's shaggy, poorly shaped, and wild, like a toddler whose parents were too busy to comb their hair. The short stubble of his five'o'clock shadow peaks out from behind the plastic shield of a massive pacifier bobbing between his lips. He sits slightly reclined, able to face me easily, in what appears to be just a slightly-sized up rear-facing car seat. Worst of all, though, are his eyes.
Although bright and shiny, seemingly full of happiness and mirth, something about them speaks to a complete lack of adult intelligence.
I squirm uncomfortably in my seat as the infantilized adult notices my attention on him, and he excitedly waves at me with uncoordinated hands.
The light turns green for his lane before ares, and his car pulls forward.
Rosalyn notices his excited gestures.
"Aw!" She can't help but coo, "Isn't he a cutie? Are you making friends back there?"
My mouth suddenly feels uncomfortably dry, while, at the same time, a familiar discomfort starts to radiate from my abdomen.
Fucking nervous bladder.
"Sure," I bark out, trying to drench my words in all of the sarcasm I muster, "Whatever."
I hear my wife click her tongue from the front seat. I can just imagine her shaking her head in amused disapproval. I really need to stop playing right into the role she wants me to. But, for some reason, it really does seem harder to control my emotions.
Maybe my hormones are just out of whack from the changes to my body?
"Mommy's got a grumpy goose on her hands today, hm? I know what will perk you up…"
I turn my eyes forward as I feel the car start to turn.
"How about a little treat from our favorite little coffee shop before we hit the store?"
My eyes grow wide, and I can't help but sit up a little straighter as I notice where we are. The Daily Grind is my favorite coffee shop in the city. Cool, relaxed, mature vibes and a delicious cup of coffee might be exactly what I need right now.
"That doesn't sound too bad, I guess," I say as low-key as possible, trying my best to hide my growing excitement.
Once the car is parked, I reach for the door handle and tug while trying to push the door open. It remains firmly in place.
As my wife gets out of the driver seat, I eye the door lock. Maybe I forgot to unlock it?
No, it appears unlocked. I try and open the door again, and it won't budge.
My anxiety grows. Have I lost that much strength?
I decide throw all of my weight against the door. Nothing happens again.
My panic swells. What's going on? Is this more of that spider's fucking magic?
I start to pound my fists against the door.
"Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!" I scream.
Unbidden, tears start to form at the corners of my eyes.
It's only a few seconds before Roz's large form is darkening my window, and she's pulling the door open with ease.
"Oh, buddy," she soothes, bending down to my height and placing a hand on my shoulder, "Deep breaths! It's going to be ok! I just put the child locks on the door to keep you from bolting out before Mommy could help you and getting yourself hurt again."
Panic immediately turns to a seething rage within me.
"You did what? You don't have the right! I'm an adult! I can take care of myself! Stop being such a fucking bitch!"
Anger overtakes me. I can't help but spit venom at my wife as I angrily brush her hand away.
I immediately regret my decision as Roz leans into the car, a dark look on her face, and she responds with a dangerous whisper.
"Sir," she growls, "I most certainly do have 'the right.' As your wife, I am your lawful guardian. I don't only have 'the right' to do what I have to do to protect you, it's my responsibility."
I scoot back in my seat, suddenly reminded of just how much bigger Rosalyn is than me now.
"You've been lucky, mister, that I have given you so much freedom until now, but, if I wanted to, I could make your life so much worse. If I wanted to, I could pull you out of this car, yank your pants down, and spank your bare ass in front of the whole world. And, you know what? No one would stop me."
A little warmth blossoms between my legs as the feeling of being helpless prey, cornered by a predator overtakes me. Suddenly, I'm not quite as upset that Roz forced me to wear protection.
I watch as Rosalyn takes a deep breath, and a softer, more caring expression, replaces the dark one on her face.
"But, I don't want to do that," she relents, "And I don't want to do this. Any of this. When I married you, I married a man, not some little boy. But, baby…"
She reaches out and cups my cheek, gently forcing me to make eye contact with her.
"I have to do this. For your own good. You're not well. You've already hurt yourself once, running off on some silly, storybook adventure. If you got hurt again…"
She sighs deeply, a deep sadness and fear peeking out from behind her eyes.
"I wouldn't be able to live with myself. You understand that, right? I don't want this. I just want to protect you."
It's my turn to take a deep breath and gather my emotions. Sure, my situation is horrible, but it's not Roz's fault. I need to remember to see this from her perspective.
I nod my head.
"I understand," I sputter out, "I'm sorry."
My wife smiles warmly at me with that smile that has always made my heart flutter.
"Good," she concludes, "I'm glad that's settled. Now, how is your pull-up doing? Should I bring a spare to change you into in the bathroom? I seem to remember that a certain little man can get leaky when he's scared."
Despite being incredibly aware of the swelling padding strapped between my legs, I roll my eyes and shake my head no.
"Roz," I whine, "I'm still an adult! I can keep my pants dry for a car ride!"
Rosalyn shakes her head in amusement before planting a gentle kiss on my lips.
"Whatever you say, sweet pea," she chirps out, unconvinced, "Now, come on. I think I promised you a treat."
Oh sweetie you’re not going anywhere. Just sit on your playmat and embrace the boredom of being a baby. Entertainment is a pleasure no longer at your fingertips. You’re an adult baby now. You gave up any say in how you spend your time when you begged me to keep you in diapers 24/7
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