POV of the nurses at rehab. 🙈
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@viniciusdl
POV of the nurses at rehab. 🙈
The cleaning lady (@rehab) sees me almost every morning like this 😅🙈
Welcome to Your New Life
You will wear diapers full-time.
No "ifs," no "ands," no "buts." This isn’t a negotiation. This isn’t a phase. This is your reality now, and the sooner you accept it, the easier it will be for both of us. You don’t get to argue, to bargain, or to pretend this is temporary. It isn’t. You’re here because you need to be here. Because you’ve proven, time and time again, that you can’t be trusted to manage even the simplest parts of your own life.
So let’s start with the basics.
You no longer wear “grown-up” underwear. Those days are over. No more briefs, no more boxers, no more pretending you’re something you’re not. From now on, your bottom is wrapped in thick, crinkly diapers, diapers that will hold everything you can’t. And you will fill them. You’ll wet them when you’re nervous, when you’re excited, when you’re just sitting there, squirming in your seat because you’ve forgotten how to do anything else. You’ll mess them when you’re overwhelmed, when you’re tired, when you’ve had too much to eat and your body decides for you. And you won’t ask. You won’t dare to ask. Because good boys don’t ask. Good boys let their caregivers handle it.
And you? You’re not a good boy yet. But you will be.
You are not trusted to manage your bathroom needs. That’s why you’re in diapers. That’s why, when you shift in your seat, when you clench your thighs together, when you whimper because you feel it coming and you know you can’t stop it, no one will rush to help you. You’ll sit there, your face burning, your diaper swelling, and you’ll learn. You’ll learn that resistance is useless. That your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It belongs to us. To the people who know what’s best for you.
You are not trusted to regulate your emotions, either. When you pout, when you cross your arms and try to look defiant, when you stomp your foot like a child throwing a tantrum, we’ll just laugh. Because that’s what you are. A child. A little boy who doesn’t know how to behave, who needs firm hands to guide him, to remind him of his place. And when you cry? Oh, you’ll cry. You’ll cry when you’re frustrated, when you’re embarrassed, when you realize just how small you’ve become. But no one will comfort you. Not the way you want. Instead, you’ll get a pacifier pressed between your lips, a bottle shoved into your hands, a firm voice telling you to settle down. And you will. Because you have no other choice.
You function best when someone else is fully in control. That’s the truth you’ve been running from. You like it when decisions are made for you. When you don’t have to think, to worry, to try. When you can just… let go. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do here. You’ll let go of your pride, your dignity, your silly little delusions of independence. You’ll let us dress you, feed you, clean you up when you’ve made a mess of yourself. You’ll let us decide when you eat, when you nap, when you’re allowed to speak. And you’ll be better for it. Happier. Because deep down, you’ve always known this is what you needed. Someone to take the reins. Someone to remind you, every single day, that you’re not in charge anymore.
You will be changed, fed, dressed, and quieted as needed. Not as requested. Not when you beg. Not when you think you’ve earned it. When we decide it’s time. When we say you’ve been good enough, or when we simply feel like it. You’ll lie on the changing table, your legs kicking uselessly as we wipe you clean, as we powder your skin, as we slide a fresh diaper beneath you and tape it snugly around your waist. And you’ll stay still. You’ll take it. Because that’s what good boys do.
And humiliation? Oh, sweet, naive thing. Humiliation isn’t a punishment here. It’s a reminder. A reminder of who you are. Of why you’re wrapped in plastic and tape, why you’re drinking from a sippy cup, why you’re sitting in a high chair while the world moves on without you. It’s a reminder that you don’t get to be ashamed. You don’t get to be anything but what we say you are. And what we say you are is this: a baby. A little boy who needs to be taken care of. Who wants to be taken care of, even if he won’t admit it yet.
So here’s your first lesson: Stop fighting it.
The diaper between your legs isn’t going anywhere. The bottle in your hands isn’t a suggestion. The way the other boys look at you, the way the caregivers smile when you squirm, the way your own body betrays you again and again, none of it is an accident. It’s design. And you? You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Now. Are you ready to be a good boy?
Sitting in a doctor’s office wearing a wet diaper at 30 years old is a level of humiliation I never imagined I’d have to face. Being handed the test results confirming I’ll be in diapers 24/7 was a soul crushing loss of dignity.
Most people don’t see the anxiety of wondering if anyone notices, the shame of feeling wet in public, or the mental toll of wondering if you smell or your diaper can be heard.
Special treatment for babies who properly use their Pampers 😳
(Posted on JFF)
Getting ready for work
Cock to cock in soaked pampers 🤤
(Just posted on JFF)
One of the privileges of being a Daddy is that I can decide a spanking is needed for absolutely no other reason than wanting to embarrass my little guy.
Is there any better location than by the window over looking the city for everyone to see?!
I’m sure that made his little locked willy throb in its soggy padding 😉
- Daddy
The incontinence diaries, hospital additionI don't know how this one never made it on here🙈🤷🏽♂️
Doesn’t get more embarrassing than leaking on the doctors exam table and being asked if you need a fresh diaper
Huge plug up my bum, topping off with a #ridiculouslythickdiaper
Diaper dependence. Incontinence. Using diapers for their intended purposes. Potty training would no longer work. Insurance will cover your adult diapers.
Believe it or not those types of phrases turn on a lot of diaper fags. They imagine a life where they can never ever escape their diapers. 24/7 nothing but diapers. What a fun thing to rub off a squirt to! Pampers forever!
Of course the reality is much different. Rashes. Smells. Skin breakdowns. Societal shunning. Family embarrassment. Logistical nightmares on long car trips. Humiliating episodes at airport security and uncomfortable seat mates on the plane. HR knowing about it at work to give you special accommodations which soon everyone knows about, not to mention they can see the waddle, hear the crinkle and smell the piss and shit. The daily grind of everyday diapers soon even robs a sissy of the libido that got them into the mess in the first place! Shouldn’t have retrained your bladder and sphincter after all. Huh, who knew that would be a bad idea? Other than like 99.9 percent of Earth’s population.
So this becomes the reality: A work conference at the hotel. Taping yourself into double diapers for all the workshops you have to sit through. Double diapers mean more attendees will probably noticed your padded butt and like it or not will likely think less of you and that could hurt you landing some deal. At some point you’ll simply mess without knowing and have to excuse yourself and take your discrete diaper bag to a restroom and change. Diaper dependency and incontinence aren’t just things you jerk off to now. In fact you really don’t jerk off to it much at all now. The diapers are now just your bitter reality. So you tape yourself into them and remember the better times–the less, uh, wetter times. If you could you’d tell other sissies and diaperboys to not do what you did. But there’s no time for that now: Now you have to get into your diapers for the day. And continue on for the rest of your life as a diaper-dependent sissy with no way out.
The diaper Boy is making Progress at the gym 🤭
Such courage!
Flowing sensations: A preoperative guide for Flowly™ SecuStent™ recipients
(Medfet, dubcon, incontinence, diapers, institutionalisation)
Disclaimer: This work of fiction mentions the usage of real-world medicines. Absolutely do not take this as medical advice or attempt to replicate: the usage of the medicines is intended as comedically overkill.
Introduction
If you are reading or being read this guide, it means that your legal caregiver has elected for you to be fitted with a SecuStent™ device. Indwelling SecuStent™ devices are a type of medical implant that are surgically affixed at the bladder neck sphincter, which is the muscle holding the bladder closed to prevent leakage of urine. Once inserted and affixed, the SecuStent™ will hold the sphincter dilated, allowing unimpeded flow of urine from the bladder. SecuStent™ uses a special kind of biological glue developed by Flowly™ that is absorbed by mucous membranes, permanently bonding the stent within the bladder neck structure. The glue is also infused with a topical muscle relaxant that is effective for about six to twelve months, allowing the stent to fully expand against the sphincter walls, as well as encouraging atrophy of the sphincter through extended prevention of muscular contraction.
The implantation of a SecuStent™ device is proven to render its user permanently incontinent. The SecuStent™ becomes fused to the inner wall of the sphincter, meaning that surgery to remove the device would necessarily involve removing the sphincter itself. Even if the device is removed immediately after initial application, the period of elimination for the paralytic agent within the glue is long enough that the sphincter muscle will always become severely atrophied before attempts can be made to regain control. Cases where the SecuStent™ has been removed before fusing with the membrane have shown limited to minute effectiveness in attempts to re-train bladder control, and re-trainers still rely on medium to heavy diapering to manage their condition.
The incontinent boy exposes his diaper after work. I'm so soaked and leaky as I was too busy to change my diaper at work.
Welp. Planet fitness may be a “judgment free zone”, but this was still one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. 😰