38 y/o diaper lover

It’s also very encouraging to her knowing she’s got to keep wetting and messing herself as much and as fast possible as she knows she doesn’t get a change until she’s fully used it, but knows that will take an extra long time. (This forces girlie into a dilemma, be confined to wear such stupid, thick, ridiculous nappies and be paraded around in them all day OR alternatively give in to what the grown ups want and force herself to have as many accidents as possible to get a change fast.)

Diaper rubs 🤭

Messy Summer Schooling

Damn it! Why didn’t I study like mom told me to do! Kay thought to herself as she walked home from school that day. The finals were over, and the summer was now upon her. But nothing else but the tests were on her mind. She failed them, and her mother was going to have a major fit about it.

But upon arriving home, her mother already got the call from the school about Kay’s failure to pass the 10th grade. Her mother was furious, but to Kay’s surprise, she wasn’t going to get into a screaming match with her again. She had another idea in mind and told Kay to pack up her stuff, and head out to the car.

Kay had no idea where they were going, but when she asked, all her mother revealed is: “Just a place that you can learn some responsibility from, and maybe save yourself from having to repeat the 10thgrade.”

The car ride was silent, until her mother announced that they’ve arrived. Kay saw the little white house in the middle of the country side, and along the metal gates was a sign: Dana’s Behavioral Reformation Academy.

Kay was confused about the ‘Behavioral Reformation’ part. But before she could question her mother about why the ‘Academy’ was in the middle of scenic nowhere, her mother pulled the car up to the front porch, where a woman in a innocent looking white dress, stood waiting for the teen.

After a good hour or so, Kay’s mother and the woman presumed as ‘Lady Dana’, walked out of the conference room and confronted Kay. Her mother then explained: “Kay, miss Dana here will be in charge of you for the remainder of the time you’ll be attending this summer school. This is the alternative to having repeating the 10th grade. You be on your best behavior here. Otherwise, if you fail here, you’ll be at home, 24/7, for the rest of your high school career, studying until you pass even the most ‘difficult’ courses. Have a good summer sweetie!”  

Kay was angry! She knew that her mother would’ve punished her, but she never expected to just be left out here with a strange woman!

Then Dana got her attention. “So Kay, let’s start with introductions: I am Miss Elizabeth Da-,”

“I don’t give a shit who you are! In fact, why should I listen to what you have to say?! Mom is such a jerk! Leaving their only fucking child with a strange woman-,”

But before Kay was able to let her vulgar rage continue; Dana popped a pacifier into Kay’s lips, then she tugged her to a chair, and then proceed to spank Kay with a paddle.

After the paddling, Dana raised the chin of the butt hurt teen and gave her a disgusted smirk. “I’ve heard from your mother that you use vulgar language, but never in my life have I heard such a disgusting display.”

Kay still didn’t have enough, she began to curse like a sailor before Dana pulled out a pacifier gag and strapped the binky around Kays’ head. “I think that you need to learn that cursing in my academy, will come with some serious punishments.”

The young teen then realized from that moment on, the innocent look that Dana had presented herself as when she arrived at the house, was nothing but a visual facade to hide her true self. Because what came after that realization, was a montage of various ABDL punishments: forced feedings, forced diapering, forced peeing and pooing in front of Dana, bare naked spankings, and in one case, a few enema treatments.

After one week of non-stop punishments; Kay finally gave up cursing, running away, and her resistance entirely, as she sat awkwardly in her play pen; hugging a stuffed plushy of Muy close to her chest, and blushed as she just finished messing her second diaper today. Dana was in the background, pushing the enema stand out of the way to reach another clean diaper. Just then, the phone rung, and Dana picked it up. “Hello? Oh hi Angela! Yes, Kay has made some good progress in her behavior training, but I was just about to help her ‘clean up’ a little ‘mess’ that she got herself into. Isn’t that right, Kay?!” she called out to her with a grin.

“Y-yes, M-mmmistress D-Dana.” She carefully answered.

“Hear that? Yes, I’m sure that she’ll do well when I start her up on her studying. Okay, thanks for calling Angela. You too, goodbye now.” Dana then hung up the phone.  

The Changes

You side eyed the situation happening across the room. You didn't like where it was headed but saw no way to stop it. 

Your wife was currently setting the toddler free after a diaper change. He got put on his unsteady feet and seeing his chance to make a run for it he did. Straight to something shiny. She, however, discarded all the soiled stuff, cleaned up and straightened the changing mat. 

The whole time she chatted with her “friend.” Why were they always “friends?” You had never met any of them. In fact, you'd never seen any of them again. When you pressed for info all she would say is “I meet them online.” 

It wasn't something she used to do…

It was all very odd. 

“Jerry, come in here please!” Her voice pitched to carry to the next room. 

Nope, this wasn't looking good.

Your home from college son waddled in, without question laid in front of her. 

Her friend commented on how well behaved your eldest was. Your wife on the other hand went to work. 

She had insisted on this. No potty training, none. Not after the incident.

Your own legs were currently being pushed apart by your very own sodden mess. 

It was in fact your fault. 

All of it.

You pretended you weren't paying attention. 

You cringed inside remembering what had happened. 

She had forgiven you ofcourse, or well it seemed that way. You WERE still married. 

She had insisted all males were untrustworthy, though. Never to be far from a guiding hand. What better way to insure that than to put them on the short leash of needing to be checked and changed. Always in need of her. 

The first diaper she had placed around your waist had seemed insurmountable. Yet there it was. Impossible yet truly true. 

The last tape went on with a “padded pants play perilously.” She then pressed the tapes down to make sure they stayed, rose and walked out of the room.

 You laid on the floor for another hour contemplating it all.

She was wrapping up the change, releasing Jerry by buttoning his pants in place and sending him on.

She repeated the tidying up she had done once before. 

Not long now.

The mat was straightened and supplies were being put away. You felt a glimmer of hope. 

Maybe she was getting past this.

Maybe she was tired of the game.

Maybe she was over the dirty diapers.

Maybe…

With the kids wipes put away she pulled out a diaper meant for you. It was huge compared to the others. Covered in the same style prints. Why couldn't she just use the medical ones?

She pulled a different powder and set of wipes out. 

Her friend commented on the diapers size, even letting go of an “Oh, my!”

Not again! You thought to yourself. 

She was bound and determined to keep this up it seemed. 

Your lawyer had advised against divorce, at least for a few years. You had to get beyond the point where your mistakes could be the reason for the split. 

No, she owned you right now, completely. 

Fluffing the diaper, apparently it made it more comfortable. She laughed in agreement, “Big butts need big diapers,” she merely responded. 

Her mirth stayed on her face for a bit, “you know it amazes me how much they benefit from them. How much we benefit from them being in them.”

Her hand went into the air, it hung there inviting you over, almost as if forgotten. 

“Sweetheart, it's your turn.” From 0 to 100 your heartbeat climbed. Pushing blood to your face as you blushed. 

At first you pretended not to hear her. 

“Honey, make this easy on me please.”

“Oh you were talking to me?” You feigned ignorance but she knew better.

“Come here, I'll make it quick.” At least she was telling the truth. She never did make it linger. At least unless sex or some other activity that didn't require diapers was happening. It was rare. 

“Can't it wait until your guest is gone?” 

“No, I don't have time to keep pulling supplies out and putting them away. Plus you likely are in deep need of a change anyway. “

Thinking madly for any excuse “It's not that  bad.” 

“You know you need them, and it's that time, let's get you changed.” Her tone began to show anger. 

You could just walk out, not likely either woman could do more than slow you down.

“I don't need diapers, you make me Wear them.” As you came closer but not close enough to be in arms reach. 

“Oh really? Then why the bulge, you're not THAT big. Or are you finally starting to enjoy being pampered?” Her tone was coy and mocking. 

You just stared, anger flaring. What could you do? If you left, where would you go? You didn't even have underwear. She had shredded those. 

“Honey, let's go.” Your feet moved of their own free will. Shuffling into the reach of that hand that she forgot to put down. 

“There's a good boy.” Pants were unbuttoned, your shame exposed, “oh boy! Another 10 minutes and I'd have been cleaning the chair too.”

There wasn't enough blood in your body to feel your feet and burn your face at the same time. 

With a slight squish, she directed you to lay in front of her. “They just need a firm hand. They will accept it if they care. Most of them do, they just aren't good at showing it.” her diatribe was aimed at her friend who was watching very intently, you noticed.

“He isn't any different, they need us, whether they'll admit it or not.” The tapes came off. “Don't you? tell me you love me.” 

This was part of the game, it got worse when you didn't play your part. “I love you so much.” Your hands covering your face.

“Do you need my Help?”

“More than anything.” Your voice sounding annoyed but you knew your lines. 

“You wouldn't have it any other way?”

Like a drone on autopilot, “no I wouldn't, and if I didn't have it this way I'd find you and ask you to make it this way.”

She smiled finishing her cleaning up. “Such a good boy.” 

Her friend beamed down at you. “You know? I think you're right. I think it's a good thing. I'm glad to see your commitment to this, it's truly inspiring.” 

Your shame covered, padded and snugly taped in, you were set free from her grasp. 

“Ah. Ah, let me check.” She wanted to see her work had been done well. You just simply had to stand there like a sack of meat. 

Fingers went in leg holes checking how tight they were. The waistband and straightness. Satisfied she gave your bum a good slap. It didn't hurt, not much made it through that padding.

“Thank you for being a good boy.” She said, bringing her lips to your ears, “I think you've earned a treat.” The last was only for your ears. 

“That’s it, my thick-diapered little mess… keep that tongue working exactly where Mommy needs it 🍼😈”

She rocks gently in the creaky wooden chair, her floral dress hiked up around her hips, legs draped possessively over his shoulders. The bulk of his triple-layered, crinkly diapers presses against the floorboards as he kneels helplessly between her thighs...face buried deep, nose filled with her scent, mouth sealed in obedient service.

His padded bottom wiggles pathetically with every denied throb trapped inside the soggy prison she taped on him this morning. No relief, no touching, no cumming-ever again if she decides so. Just endless edging frustration while he worships.

She threads fingers through his hair and pulls him tighter, grinding slowly against his eager, humiliated mouth.

“Mmm… such a good baby boy using his special kissy place like Mommy taught you 👅💦 No big-boy privileges anymore, remember? Only diapers, bottles, and serving Mommy’s pretty pussy whenever she snaps her fingers.”

A soft whimper vibrates against her as his tongue swirls desperately—trying so hard to please, knowing any slacking means the paci gag, the crib, and another week locked in denial.

She sighs contentedly, sipping her tea with one hand while the other keeps his head locked in place.

“Deeper, sweetie. Flatten that tongue and lick like the pathetic, permanently babied little denied toy you are. If you make Mommy cum hard enough… maybe-just maybe-I’ll let you hump your soggy diapee later while I laugh at how tiny and useless you stay 🍆⛔️🍼”

She clenches her thighs around his ears, rocking faster now, voice dropping to a mocking purr:

“Say thank you for forcing you back into babyhood… for taking away your manhood… for making you Mommy’s oral-diaper slave forever.”

Muffled, broken, dripping with shame and need, the words come out against her slick folds:

“Th-thank you… Mommy… for—forcing me… into diapees… and—and making me… your denied… baby…”

She smiles wickedly, hips bucking as pleasure builds.

“Good boy. Now don’t stop until I’m finished… and remember-good babies swallow every drop and thank Mommy afterward ♡👶🚫💦”

Its been a quarter of an hour since you encouraged me to crawl between your open legs.

I was busy reconciling a clients annual financial position, you had a little time to kill.

You're in control. You're always in control. I'm on my knees, you've gripped my hair, clamped my face between your thighs and given me firm instruction throughout.

The sole focus - my tongue and your pussy.

You'd usually insist on more than the two orgasms you've already enjoyed but time's pressing and you need to get ready.

You take my hand in yours and lead me to the spare room. You lay me on the single bed, the one with the duvet cover adorned with cars and trains in primary colours. I understand I won't be sharing our double bed tonight.

Laying me down you gently undress me. Shoes first, then trousers and underwear. I'm erect and my pants are wet. I've been like that for the last fifteen minutes. I'm shy and embarrassed. With quiet reassurance you tell me its ok.

I lift my head to help you remove my jumper, then tshirt, then it's my my socks.

I'm naked.

You're still fully dressed, save for your knickers which you took off before you positioned my face between your legs.

I'm embarrassed.

You gently spread my legs, exposing me further. I resist. You push firmly but gently, asserting your reassuring control, then crawl between my open legs.

Reaching above me you pull the strap from under the pillow and attach it to my wrists. You want my hands out the way. It's just easier when I can't wriggle around.

I see compassion in the way you look at me, I'm searching for reassurance, validation even. You hold my gaze as you carefully grip my cock and lower yourself on to it. We are in the Lady Boy Position - woman on top between the man's legs. Its like the traditional missionary position but reversed. We always do it this way.

I moan with the initial penetration. You read my pleasure as pain and reassure me, gently shushing me, your hand on my heart.

I wrap my legs around your body as you start to rise and fall, my cock slipping in and out of you. You look at me, smiling, nodding your head in encouragement. You watch my enjoyment build and my worries slip away as I fall into the moment.

You know I won't last long, I never do. As you build the pace, you can see I'm getting close already.

Smiling, you at look me, holding my gaze. Then in a quiet voice you say,

"Tell me when you're gonna cum, baby."

You pick up the pace a little more as I start to shake my head, it's too soon, I want more but I already know it's too late. You nod your head in approval, silently encouraging me.

"I'm gonna cum!" I  blurt out, my back arching, my body tensing in anticipation.

"Cum inside me baby!"

The enthusiasm in your voice makes my heart swell with joy. I clamp my legs around you, holding on tightly as I approach my crescendo.

You hold my gaze intently, silently encouraging me. It's here, all too soon. My orgasm crashes over me and I helplessly pump my little load inside you.

As I release my breath, the intensity melting away, you tell me I'm a good boy. You reassure me. You stroke my face and smile at me compassionately. You're proud of me.

You stay between my splayed legs gently stroking my face, whispering sweet nothings and telling me what a clever boy I am.

I'm soft by the time you climb off me but your hand lingers, running down my body keeping reassuring contact as you step away.

Reaching into the bag next to the bed, you pull out the disposable nappy and slip it between my legs. With an efficient wipe and a puff of powder, you flap up the front, patting me and talking sweetly as you fasten both tapes. Its thick. I guessed it would be.

You turn me on my side, pushing my teddy under my arm and the dummy between my lips. There's a pause, then I feel the weight of a soft blanket envelope me.

Stroking my hair and shushing me gently you encourage me towards sleep. My eyes close and my mind wanders, my dummy bobs absently in my mouth. The last thing I hear is your quiet whisper,

"Sleep tight my baby boy. I'll be back later."

You go into another room and get changed. You're off out tonight to see your lover. You'll probably bring him home with you. He's tall handsome and accomplished in bed. I know where you're going, you've never held it from me. But I know where my place is.

At home, in my nappy.

lookie what came in the mail!! first onesie in the closet of my new little room 🎀✨

(all characters are 18+) In a sunny Parisian suburb park, spring 1987, two elegant middle-class nannies execute their plan. Madame Leclerc and Madame Moreau have cornered student Julien. Stripped bare in public, he is powdered, thickly diapered in a crinkly adult disposable with teddy prints, and snapped into a baby-blue onesie. Strapped tightly in a reinforced navy pram, bare feet kicking, he panics.

“Lift your bottom, mon petit bébé,” Madame Leclerc orders, taping the diaper snug. Julien thrashes: “No! Let me go! Help!” Madame Moreau pins his legs: “Hush. Madame Duval ordered a permanent infant. Your old life ends here. Only crib, bottles, nappies.”

They buckle the harness across his chest. “In two weeks we destroy your control. Castor oil in every formula. Glycerin suppositories twice daily. Long Vaseline-coated finger massages deep in your anus. You’ll wet and mess 4-6 times a day like a real baby.”

The pram rolls past staring families. “Feel that thick padding?” Madame Moreau whispers. “Soon you’ll beg for the bottle… even the breast. You’ll cry when you soil yourself.”

In the waiting van: first forced bottle. “Drink, bébé,” Leclerc says, pinching his thigh until he suckles. “This starts the regression.”

At the villa nursery ( pastel walls, barred crib, changing table) the ritual begins. Fresh change, then massage: slick fingers circling, pressing inside. “Relax… let go,” they coo as Julien sobs. “Twenty-five minutes daily. Your sphincter will forget how to hold.”

Permanent Routine

- 6 AM: Wake in messy crib, full change + suppository.

- Bottles & pureed food only.

- Two forced naps, nightly locking crib.

- Multiple daily massages until he pushes helplessly into his diaper, crying with need and shame.

By day 7 Julien babbles “Baba… change…” while wetting uncontrollably. Day 10: he latches desperately on Madame Duval’s breast, heavy diaper sagging, forever her helpless, regressed baby.

They took your bed and gave you an armchair. It was fast, it was swift. It was your bed, and now it’s theirs.

They made you watch them, for as long as they wanted, for as long as they needed. It is why they brought you a nice comfy armchair, so you can sit, and watch, them. You could squirm around as you saw them enjoy each other. It was your place now, watching them in theirs. You were in that bed. You had sex in that bed. With the same face that is now in the bed, who’s enjoying another man, right in front of you.

More than a few times, you asked to get up and pee because it took them so long to be done. Standing up and walking right in front of them bothered them in a way. They wanted you watching the whole thing, non-stop, taking it all.

It was painful to admit that you got aroused while sitting there. You tried to hide your small erection. But there was a time you’ve touched your crotch too many times, and had a blowout in your tighty whites. You’ve made a mess in your pants.

They agreed on a solution, between themselves, of course, you were not there to decide. The new man of the house laid you down in your former bed, just to have you diapered in the thickest you could ever imagine.

“Now you can have your little accidents in your diaper without interrupting us. If you have to go, for whatever you need, just go right there, on the armchair,” he said firmly, “and if you’ll interrupt us one more time, I’ll grab you from that chair, sit there myself, pull your diaper down and spank you 'til you’ll beg me to stop.”

You looked down on your new padded crotch.

“Is that understood?” he asked.

You nodded yes without saying a word.

“Good, now go to your chair”

---------------------------------