ABDL du 30

The next morning

Daddy: “Admit you’re soaked… or greet company like that.”

Life has been busy and I’ve been scarce on Tumblr. Sorry to all of you whose messages I’ve been slow to return! Part of my absence has been a [longer-than-usual] streak of shame about this kink. I know we all deal with it.

ABDL is in direct conflict with so many of our inherent—and inherited—toxic personality traits. Perfectionism. Puritanism. “Masculinity” (and all of the bullshit carried by the label). I’m a progressive person, spared by an upbringing without dogmatic religion, who aspires to mindfulness, and a neutral but equitable conception of gender and gender roles—but my self-consciousness is not always immune.

It is wonderful to be someone’s “good boy” in diapers… but then comes the dissonance against my pride, career, social standing, and command of articulate speech. It is wonderful to be the “Daddy” to a diapered little… but the word itself triggers deep shame of misogyny, and my own daddy issues about the man who held that title—the archetype of 1950s toxic masculinity—in my early childhood.

So, this is my self-reminder to live and let live. Be big, be little. Wear diapers with reckless abandon. Life is uncertain; and the fascists want to deprive us of what little joy we have in the first place—not to mention the strain on our collective mental health as Nazi thugs ravage our communities, and billionaire pedophiles rule our country.

Daddy was greated by Jonathon's semi naked form asleep and spralled across the bed when he returned home. As he quietly stripped off his soiled work clothes he gazed at the narrow fitting medical diaper bunched between Jonathon's pale cheeks his cock already pressing against his sweaty underwear in anticipation of the next few minutes.

The movement on the bed made Jonathon stir and the firm hands on his hips, dragging him onto his knees, elicited a moan of protest into his dummy gag. Daddy slipped a hand between Jonathon's legs to feel the damp padding he knew he'd find. Luckily the nappy had kept the bed sheets dry, which had been Daddy's main concern that morning, particularly as he normally kept his boi in an assortment of colourful, babyish, ultra thick nappies.

Jonathon whimpered, his tongue compressed by the bulbous rubber teat, desperately trying to shake free his dream filled mind. He felt a hand on the back of his head pushing his face into the pillow. He knew what was coming, he'd been promised it this morning but the rip of the nappy tapes from around his waist and the rush of cool air around his damp ball sack heightened the impending violation.

"I know you want this," Daddy whispered, rubbing his thick member along Jonathon's smooth crack, pausing at his puckered hole.

Jonathon shook his head in protest and tried to pull away. Gripping Jonathon's narrow hips, Daddy pressed home the point, all seven inches of it.