Hewwo!!!

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the rows of grown men sitting cross-legged on the padded floor. Their thick, crinkling diapers, some adorned with cartoon dinosaurs, others plain white, bulged slightly under their baby blue t-shirts. Ms. Harper stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, watching with a smirk as the last straggler, a broad-shouldered man with a buzz cut, shuffled in. His face was flushed, his jaw clenched. He hated being here. That only made it sweeter.

The screen flickered to life, and the room fell silent.

"Good boys fill their diapers," the cheerful voice cooed, accompanied by the image of a muscular man in a onesie, his face twisted in pleasure as he rocked his hips against the padding. "The toilet is only for girls. You are a baby boy."

Ms. Harper’s lips curled. She loved this part.

Jake’s fingers twitched against the plastic between his legs. The diaper was thick, too thick, but that was the point. He could feel his body responding to the hypnotic rhythm of the screen. "You don’t need to hold back. Let it all out, baby boy." The words slithered into his ears, warm and sticky.

Beside him, Tommy giggled, already grinding his hips into the floor. His diaper crinkled loudly with every movement, the sound filling the space between them. Jake swallowed hard. He hated this. He loved this.

"Good boys don’t fight it," the voice purred.

Jake’s breath hitched. His cock strained against the padding, the friction maddening. He shifted, trying to ignore it, but the screen flashed, another man, this one on all fours, humping his diaper like a dog in heat. "You’re just like him. Aren’t you?"

Tommy moaned softly, his hands rubbing his diaper. Jake’s face burned. He wasn’t like this. He wasn’t.

But his hips betrayed him, rocking forward, just once.

Ms. Harper’s heels clicked as she strolled between the rows. Some of the boys were already lying flat on their tummies, their diapers crinkled obscenely as they humped the floor . Others, like Jake, still fought it, their faces twisted in shame.

"You can’t help it," the voice crooned. "You’re a baby boy. And baby boys fill their diapers."

Jake’s teeth ground together. His cock throbbed, trapped, the pressure unbearable. He could smell it, the baby powder, the plastic, the musk of sweat and something fouler. His hips jerked again, his ass lifting off the floor.

Ms. Harper reached over, her fingers brushing Jake’s thigh. "C’mon, Jakey," she whispered, her voice high and teasing. "You know you wanna."

Jake groaned, his pride crumbling. His hands rubbed the fabric of his diaper, pulling it tighter against his cock. The screen flashed "Good boys don’t think. Good boys just feel." and Jake stopped thinking.

The room was a symphony of crinkling plastic and ragged breaths. Ms. Harper paused beside Jake, watching as his hips pistoned upward, his diaper crinkling with every desperate thrust. His face was a mask of pleasure and humiliation, his lips parted in a silent gasp.

"That’s it," she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. "Let it all out."

Jake’s back arched. His cock pulsed, the sensation overwhelming. He wasn’t going to... he couldn’t...

But he did.

His body shuddered, his hips stuttering as he came into the diaper. The warmth spread, the padding swallowing every last drop. His face burned, his chest heaving.

Tommy clapped, his own diaper squelching with every movement. "Good boy, Jakey!"

The nursery was quiet except for the soft crinkle of your diaper as you shifted in the playpen. The bars were tall, the padding beneath you plush, but none of it mattered. You were mad. Mommy had put you here for talking back, again, and no amount of pouting or kicking your feet was going to change that. The thick, baby-blue diaper between your legs felt like a betrayal, a reminder of how small she could make you feel when she wanted to.

You sighed, your pacifier bobbing as you sucked on it absently. The blanket beneath you was soft, but it did nothing to ease the frustration bubbling inside you. Without thinking, your hand drifted down, fingers pressing against the padded front of your diaper. The pressure was instant, a spark of something warm and forbidden. You bit down on your pacifier, your hips lifting just a little, seeking more.

That’s when you heard it, the soft creak of the rocking chair.

Mommy had been watching.

Her voice was sweet, almost musical, but there was a edge to it that made your stomach twist. "Aww, is my baby boy bored?" She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin propped up in her hands. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but her smile was knowing. Too knowing.

You froze, your hand still pressed against your diaper. You knew you weren’t supposed to touch yourself. Good boys didn’t do that. But the way she was looking at you, like she already knew exactly what you’d been doing, made your face burn.

Before you could pull your hand away, hers was there, slipping between the bars of the playpen. Her fingers curled around your wrist, not to stop you, but to guide you. "Boys don’t get to touch themselves," she murmured, her voice low and firm. "Only Mommy can touch you."

Your breath hitched. You should’ve been embarrassed. You were embarrassed. But the way her fingers replaced yours, pressing into the thick padding of your diaper, made it impossible to care. Her touch was deliberate, her palm cupping you through the layers of plastic and fluff. You whimpered, your hips jerking upward instinctively, seeking more pressure.

Mommy’s laugh was soft, almost a purr. "That’s it, baby. Let Mommy take care of you." Her fingers worked in slow, deliberate circles, her thumb pressing just there, right where you needed it most. The diaper crinkled loudly with every movement, the sound filling the quiet nursery. You could feel yourself getting harder, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable.

Your pacifier slipped from your lips as you panted, your free hand clutching at the blanket beneath you. "Mmm, someone’s very excited," Mommy teased, her voice dripping with amusement. She didn’t let up, her fingers never stilling, never giving you a moment to catch your breath. The pleasure was overwhelming, a hot, heavy weight in your groin that made your toes curl.

You tried to speak, to beg, but all that came out was a muffled, desperate sound. Your hips bucked against her hand, your body moving on its own, chasing the release that felt just out of reach. The diaper was warm now, damp from earlier, but the heat between your legs was something else entirely.

Mommy leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "You gonna make a mess for Mommy, baby?" Her voice was a whisper, but it might as well have been a command. The way she said it, like she already knew the answer, sent a shiver down your spine.

And then, just like that, you were there.

Your body tensed, your back arching off the blanket as the pleasure crashed over you. A choked cry tore from your throat, the sound muffled by the pacifier you’d barely managed to shove back into your mouth. Your hips jerked, once, twice, your entire body shuddering as you spilled into your diaper. The warmth spread quickly, the padding soaking up every last bit of your release. But Mommy wasn’t done. Her fingers kept moving, kept pressing, and the pleasure didn’t stop. Your body clenched, and with a gasp, you realized…

You were going number two, too.

The heat in your belly twisted, and before you could stop it, your diaper gave a loud, wet squelch. The smell hit you immediately, thick, musky, stinky. Your face burned with humiliation, but Mommy just giggled, her fingers finally stilling.

"Looks like someone made a big mess," she cooed, her voice laced with delight. She didn’t move to clean you up. Didn’t even reach for the wipes. Instead, she simply stood, her hands on her hips as she admired her handiwork.

You lay there, panting, your diaper sagging with the weight of your mess. The warmth was unbearable, the stickiness clinging to your skin. You wanted to squirm away, to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The playpen bars were still between you and freedom.

Mommy’s smile was wicked as she reached down and scooped you up, cradling you against her chest. You were heavy in her arms, your diaper a warm, squishy burden between you. "Such a messy boy," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "But you’re my messy boy."

She carried you to the crib, the one with the tall, unyielding bars, and laid you down gently. The mattress was cool beneath you, a stark contrast to the heat of your diaper. You whimpered, your fingers twisting in the sheets, but Mommy just shook her head.

"No, no, baby. You made this mess. You can stay in it a little while." She tapped your nose playfully, her eyes twinkling. "Besides, it’s almost naptime. And good boys nap in their sticky diapers, don’t they?"

You wanted to argue. Wanted to beg her to change you, to clean you up, to anything but leave you like this. But the look in her eyes brooked no argument. And deep down, beneath the embarrassment, beneath the discomfort, there was something else, a warm, fuzzy feeling, like the first sip of hot cocoa on a cold day.

Mommy tucked a blanket around you, her touch lingering on your shoulder. "Sleep well, baby," she said, her voice soft. "Mommy will check on you later."

you were so excited to vote for UBI, you never bothered to read the ballot measure

six months later a small failed test has ensured you’ll never have to worry about politics or well anything anymore

As a writer, I am often intrigued by certain words or word combinations, and I was thinking about which ABDL words really hit me right in the caregiver or little feels. So here’s a list 💕 There will be a fair amount of ageplay words as well, so be warned!

“Accident-prone”

“Baby cuck/cuckie baby”

“Baby sub/subby baby”

“Babygirl” (spelled this way specifically)

“Bedwetter” (spelled this way specifically)

“Big girl undies”

“Couldn’t hold it”

“Crinkle baby/baby crinkles”

“Diaper baby”

“Diaper brained”

“Diaper butt”

“Diaper check/let Mommy check your diaper”

“Diaper dependent”

“Diaper girl”

“Diaper waddle”

“Did someone have an accident”

“Did you go potty in your pants”

“Did you make a mess” (I find this one less embarrassing for some reason)

“Didn’t make it on time”

“Does someone need a change”

“Goodnites”

“Goony girl” (shut up)

“Huggie humper”

“I don’t think you’re ready for pull-ups”

“Kiddo”

“Leaky girl”

“Let Mommy change your diaper”

“Let’s change that diaper, little one”

“Like a big girl”

“Little girl”

“Little leaker/leaky little girl”

“Little miss ‘still-pees-her-pants’”

“Little one”

“Make tinkles”

“Make an uh-oh”

“Messy girl” (ignore this one it’s embarrassing)

“Mommy’s girl”

“No more big girl undies”

“Not big enough for that”

“Padded princess”

“Padding”

“Pamper bottom”

“Pissy pants”

“Poopy pants” (we’re ignoring this one too)

“Potty accident”

“Potty chart”

“Potty pants”

“Princess parts”

“Pullups” (it’s cuter when spelled this way)

“Put back in diapers”

“Silly little thing”

“Sweetie”

“Still needs diapers”

“Tinkle bell”

“Tinkle fairy”

“Too little for that”

“Too little to use the big girl potty”

“Training pants/training panties”

“Unpotty trained/training”

“Waistband peek”

Your each everyone movement and complaint is outlined audibly by your bulky nighttime padding. Your caregiver doesn’t even need the baby monitor, they can hear your discomfort from a few doors down.

They sleepily undo the nursery door lock, and walk over to the crib, unlatching the side wall and plucking you into their arms and over their shoulder like you weigh less than nothing.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes in both pain and embarrassment as your stomach begs for relief. Your caregiver rubbing your backside softly, cooing in a sing-song voice:

“There, there. Such a grumpy baby tonight, hm? Just let go for me, hun. Your trusty Huggies will keep it all under control.”

They kiss the side of your forehead and it’s like the spell has been lifted. Your body goes limp on demand, and you burrow your face into your caregiver’s neck as you slowly and softly push, your padded backside bulging slightly above the arm supporting it.

The diaper shifts and sags under its new weight, and the nursery begins to smell a tad more authentic. In your dozy, baby-brained state, you hardly even realize what just transpired.

Your eyes snap closed and you drift off almost immediately, too sleepy to complete anything more than your most basic bodily functions.

Your caregiver grins, happy with how thoroughly they’ve broken you into the perfect little infant. They lay you down gently on the changing table, carefully so as to not disturb your sleep.

I'll tell you a secret: there's a difference between being "incontinent" and being "diaper dependent."

Incontinence is a twist of fate, usually brought on by an unwelcome medical condition. There are countless guides published online that promise to take away your bladder control, but the reality is that continence is physiological, not mental. A healthy person can't train themselves to be incontinent any more than they can train themselves to stop seeing the color orange.

Diaper dependence, however, is a mental state. It's your brain's understanding of where it's okay to void. Humans didn't co-evolve with the flush toilet. Even in the 21st century, different cultures have different rules on when and where to make tinkles. For your Little, the goal is to make that: anytime and everywhere.

This can be trained.

So! You've watched your pamper packer romp around the house in just their t-shirt and diaper, crinkling to and fro, and the thought occurred: today is the day. They're just too adorable. I'll never let them wear anything else on their butt again. After the tears, the corrective spanking, and lots of cuddles, they'll come around to the idea. But in order for them to truly accept and embrace their diapers, you'll need to train them to be diaper dependent.

Enter: The Potty Diary 📒

Get your leaky little lamb a cute journal (you can also install a bladder tracking app on their phone). Require your Little to record every single time they make lemonade in their diaper, and approximately how much they think they went. They should try to pee at least once every 30 minutes; no less than once an hour. If they wake up to flood their padding in the middle of the night, that should be recorded, too.

"But Miss Natalie," you say. "I'm trying to make my Little forget about their pee-pees! Now they'll be thinking about their bladder more than ever!"

True! And your kiddo will be hyper-aware of how much they're soaking those pampers for a while. But ask any incontinent person who's had to keep a bladder diary for their doctor: it's a lot of work and it's very annoying.

That's why it's going to be such a relief when, after a couple of months, you tell your Little:

No More Potty Diary! 😃

What a relief! They can finally go tinkles without having to record it for you! They can saturate their bedtime diaper and just fall right back asleep! All of the RAM their tiny little brains were devoting to their bladder has been freed up for more important matters. And they'll find, to their amazement (and your amusement), that peeing without thinking has become a reward.

No, they won't lose their ability to hold it if they're concentrating. They won't stop feeling the urge to go. But you just tricked their brains into realizing that it's too much work to think about their bladder. They'll start having little accidents when they're distracted. They won't remember how many times they peed. And the idea of going a day without diapers will start making them very, very nervous.

It's not about losing control. It's about losing your mind 💛

This is a list of 25 ideas that I found here:

http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=823061

This slave has “mastered” the bathroom control in D/s relationship. I sure love it and just by reading it, I am turned on. :)

Enjoy!!

1. Require her to report for permission every time she uses the toilet. This is an oldie but a goodie. Great for age play and pet play, it has extra effect when you determine how the request should be phrased — for many a sub, the only thing more clit-awakening than asking “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” is leaning over in front of family to whisper in her dom’s ear, “Master, I need to go potty.”

2. Set a minimum and maximum number of bathroom visits per day. This ensures she’s drinking enough water, but can be very uncomfortable if she misjudges. If she needs to drink enough water to be pissing at least 12 times, but can’t go more than 14, she’ll be constantly thinking about controlling her body for you.

3. Allow literal toilet use only two or three times a day, or only for shitting — the rest of the time, let her go as often as she likes, but it has to be down the bath drain, in the backyard, in a litter box, in the kitchen sink, in a chamber pot or clear bowl …

4. Print out a log sheet and post it on the bathroom wall with a pen, then make her record every bathroom visit. A wonderful low-effort micromanagement technique, this can be varied according to your play style as you make her record time in and time out for strict management play, note consistency and rate difficulty or need to go for medical roles, and earn gold stars for going on the potty for ageplay. This also works well combined with …

5. Make her keep track of the volume of her pee. Keep a measuring cup in the bathroom and require her to use it to catch her piss. This lets you test how well she’s holding it and how badly she needed to go if you’re limiting her, or make sure she’s drinking enough if you’re managing her intake.

6. Set a toileting schedule for her. This can be fairly simple — you must go and pee at 12 noon, 2 o’clock, 4 o’clock, and 6 o’clock every afternoon, and woe betide you if you can’t go. Or it can be quite elaborate: at 2:30, you will make a 30-second bathroom visit for pissing only; at 3:20, you may visit again and must piss, and shitting is permitted. 

7. Legislate a minimum and maximum period for bathroom visits. Depending on your number, this will result in her either rushing to empty herself in just too few seconds, or sitting on the toilet for five boring minutes able to think about nothing but doing exactly as you tell her. Setting a kitchen timer is a nice touch with this rule as she waits for the bell to free her or to stop her up again.

8. Place clamps on her body every time she visits the bathroom. When I did this for a previous dom, it was two clothespins which were clearly labeled “piss pins”; I could place them on my nipples, my pussy lips, my tongue, my ass cheeks, wherever I chose, but I had to be clamped to pee. Whether she places them herself or has to bring them to you to be fixed on her body is up to you!

9. Make her eat a meal while sitting on the toilet. Even if she’s not required to pee during her dinner, this is an unnerving experience. Increase the emotional impact by telling her she can’t be trusted to control herself for the length of a mealtime, so she’ll just have to stay there. This is a great punishment for an accident, or a fun thing to spring on her unexpectedly.

10. Require her to spread herself with her hands before she can eliminate — opening her ass wide to shit, holding her cunt lips apart while she pisses. If she forgets, give her some nice abrasions on her lips so that pee will sting and remind her.

11. Establish a rule that she must clean the toilet thoroughly every time she uses it. If she’s into humiliation, this is excellent — you’re so filthy that the toilet has to be cleaned whenever you touch it — but it’s also a subtle way to get her to control herself for you. For a severe punishment, increase this to cleaning the toilet both before and after she goes, or cleaning the whole bathroom every time she pees.

12. Make her clean herself in a humiliatingly thorough way each time she uses the toilet. I had a dom who required this and called it my bitch-bath. I used soap and ice water followed by toothpaste on my asshole for a nice burn, but try filling a squirt bottle with cold water for painful direct jets, having her scrub herself with a toothbrush, or making her use a little diluted alcohol (NOT strong acetone) to wipe between her lips. 

13. As a humiliating addition to 12, mix her pussy-bath blend ahead of time (try some of the old-fashioned alcohol mouthwash for a good tingle), label it clearly as pussy and ass wash, and keep it visible. Eau de Cunt?

14. Tell her she is allowed to use the toilet whenever she wants, but she is not permitted to pull her panties down. This keeps her from needing to wake you for permission to pee in the morning if you don’t have her sleep in panties, but makes her beg you the rest of the time. Sometimes, refuse to pull them down and watch her panties get slowly wet while she sits on the toilet and pleads with you. This also works nicely with split-crotch panties which she is forbidden to remove under any circumstance.

15. Require her to strip completely every time she uses the toilet — a nice way of sexualizing the use of her privates, and an especially difficult and possibly humiliating proposition in public restroom stalls.

16. Forbid her to wipe herself. This means she has a choice of calling you for help, waiting on the toilet until she drips dry, or dealing with a slightly damp crotch every time she pisses. This is great for Daddies and girls as, if she’s been shitting, you can make her do as some parents require their little girls to do and bend over to touch her toes (sitting or standing) while you wipe her up.

17. Invest in a child’s potty, an old chamber pot, or a bedpan and place it in the bathroom; make her use it, empty it into the toilet, and wash it each time. Squatting on the floor to go while at eye level with the toilet is a great degradation and extra task.

18. Put the toilet seat up and keep it up, so she has to be very careful how she sits on the uncomfortable rim. For an especially cruel look and a constant reminder, duct-tape the seat to the toilet tank so she can’t sneak it down while she shits.

19. Supervise her on the toilet. Depending on your roles, tell her that you’re watching to make sure she doesn’t touch herself, that you’re making sure she behaves herself on the potty for Daddy, or simply that there’s no part of herself she gets to hide from you.

20. Establish foot marks with painter’s tape on the floor to remind her that a lady’s legs should be held wide apart at all times, including while pissing. Make her keep her feet on the marks while she goes. To stop her from trying to make extended bathroom visits easier on herself, put her on the toilet and have her spread as wide as she can when you establish the marks without telling her what you’re doing, or measure how far apart her toes are while she’s displaying herself in a regular chair.

21. Make her wipe with her bare hands, then wash them after she’s cleaned her private parts thoroughly. Inspect her afterward to make sure she’s being thorough in her wiping, including just inside her holes.

22. If she really hates being dirty, well, that’s made to be taken advantage of. Bring in some garden dirt and rub it between her legs after she’s both pissed and shit. Even if you allow her to use toilet paper, she’ll still be able to feel how grimy she is — just right for punishing a slave who’s too prissy.

23. Sit in the next room and call out when she is to stop and start the flow of pee or the slide of shit. This is extremely difficult with a full bladder and is also a great way to make a reluctant Kegel-er do her exercises.

24. After she goes, put a blanket on the floor, make her lie on it with her knees up and spread or hold her legs back in the air, and use baby wipes to clean her ass and pussy thoroughly. This is a great substitute for a punishment diapering when travelling or if you don’t want to deal with changing her — less mess and nuisance, but it captures the feeling of helplessness, degradation, and loss of control over one’s own bodily functions.

25. Don’t allow her to sit on the toilet. Make her put her feet on the seat and squat like a bitch puppy instead. This is a great position for holding herself open as in 10. For a more severe variation, place a low chair or footstool on either side of the toilet; make her stand with her legs on these and let her piss fall from the height. Lift the seat for less mess. It might be easier for her to balance if she faces the tank and the wall. She won’t be able to shit standing, but pissing should be possible, and she’ll worry the whole time.

I wrote this. Apparently 14 years ago.

Interesting to read through again. I liked my introductory clauses a little too much. And apparently I didn’t find the word “piss” as distasteful back then!