30s | Urinary Incontinent | Married | He/Him
I write humiliating diaper captions. They are pure fantasy. Treat them as such.
If you want longer stories, go to my story blog: @destinedfordiaperstories
Have you ever been on my blog and just wanted to find some ddlg or mdlg captions, but didn't want to wade through mdlb captions?
You're in luck! Now you don't have to. I put them all here in this post.
Since this is pinned, if you, the person reading this, are looking for my mdlb captions, here is the MDLB Diaper Boy Compendium.
And don't forget my other blog, @theneedfulthings, for some slightly spicier content. Not as many captions, but probably my best writing.
I labeled them as DDlg, MDlg, or M+D for both Mommy and Daddy doms.
And put a brief description of the caption. Anything with Cuckquean is labeled, as some love it, while others hate it.
The Chilies are a humiliation measurement. Five chilies means you want pure humiliation. One chili means it's a sweeter, loving caption. Squirmies can be found at every chili level.
Anyway, like this so you can always find what you're looking for.
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Scattered clouds became the canvas for another spectacular summer sunset of fiery crimson and amber melting into delicate coral and indigo.
Somewhere just beyond the window, baby birds on the verge of their first flight chirp expectantly as their mother returns to feed them.
Beyond that, young fawns, foxes, and bear cubs venture ever further from the den, testing their instincts and the limits of their freedom that will one day gift them their independence.
Joyful shouts trickle in from neighborhood children playing in the street, enjoying the special freedom that only summer provides.
Beyond the window, summer means freedom and the first tentative steps towards independence and adulthood.
But only a few scattered rays of the sunset make it past the window blinds, as if it were standing in defiance of summer itself and rejecting the fledgling independence of the person sleeping in the nursery it protects.
Mommy and Daddy lean against the rails of your crib, watching your Barney pacifier bob in between your little snores. Your blanket lies in a crumpled pile at your feet, kicked off as you slept.
Not long ago, summer nights like this meant barbeques, parties, and long nights enjoying the freedoms of a successful young adult, never imagining how fleeting that independence would prove to be.
âI think he pooped,â Daddy whispered.
Neither Mommy nor Daddy harbored any doubt that you were sleeping in a poopy diaper. Not when the smell of your mess, mixed with the copious sprinkling of baby powder Mommy always used, engulfed the room.
Not when they could see the brown stain on the seat of your white diaper adorned with the Barney sticker Mommy loved so much.
Not when they could see youâthe formerly independent, competent adultâsleeping in a crib in nothing but an overworked diaper and matching Barney pacifier.
Mommy frantically squeezed Daddyâs hand to keep herself from squealing in joy.
She didnât want to wake her baby up.
Not yet.
Over the past year, Mommy came to cherish these intimate evening moments most of all. Her nightly ritual of checking on her baby as the sun set.
She celebrated every milestone along the way as your resistance crumbled and adulthood slipped away from your grasping hands.
First, it was the pure joy of finally finding you fast asleep before the sun finished setting, which soon became the norm. Mommy hung the framed picture from that night above your changing table.
Then, a few weeks later, she found you sleeping with your pacifier for the first time. She celebrated that, too.
But not as much as the night she checked your diaper and discovered it was soggy, something you resisted fiercely. By the end of the month, you were having daytime accidents, too.
Sure, there were other important milestones celebrated outside of these nighttime checks. There was the âfamily bonfire,â when you sat on Mommyâs lap as Daddy burned all your big boy clothes.
He even wiped the tears from your cheeks when your entire suit collectionâthe last remaining remnant of your professional lifeâwas unceremoniously tossed into the flames.
Still, nothing compared to this nightly ritual in Mommyâs eyes.
Mommy understood the truth. The privileges of adulthood she stripped away during the day were the result of her active involvement. She knew you were far too pathetic to put up a fight and actually resist her commands in person.
But at night?
The nighttime milestones proved that Mommy and Daddyâs efforts were reaching your subconsciousâthat, deep down, you were beginning to accept your new role in life.
You were becoming the baby you were destined to become.
Tonight was perhaps the biggest milestone yet. Even as your daytime tinkle control faded into memory, you fought tooth and nail to control your stinkies, knowing it was the last vestige of adulthood you still possessed.
Which is how Mommy knew this wasnât an act.
You would never willingly poop yourself in a crib you were confined to, unable to leave. And especially not when you were supposed to be sleepingâyou hated the icky feeling of mush between your cheeks.
But here you are.
Blissfully unaware your own body betrayed you in the most infantile manner conceivable, sleeping like a baby in a profoundly poopy diaper.
Daddy deftly lowered the bars of your crib and squished your diaper.
âYep. He pooped.â
âCan you turn on the light, babe? Heâs so stinking cute; Iâd never forgive myself if I didnât get a picture.â
âWonât that wake him up?â
Mommy smiles. âBabe, look at him. Heâs fast asleep in a poopy diaper. The poor baby whines and begs for a diaper change as soon as he poops. No, heâs not going to wake up.â
Sure enough, Mommy was right.
For the next ten minutes, you model for a photoshoot you didnât know was happening.
Satisfied with the pictures, Mommy turns off the light, then sits on the ledge of your crib, gently tickling your tummy, watching you slowly stir back awake.
âHi, baby, Mommy didnât want to wake you when you were sleeping so peacefully butâŚâ she says, trailing off.
You groggily open your eyes. Mommyâs comforting smile looms over you. Daddy is standing behind her, hands on her shoulders.
âWha-wha buh sweeepy,â you mumble incomprehensibly.
âI know, baby boy. But Mommy canât let her precious angel sleep in a poopy diapie, can she? Nuh uh, Mommy would never.â
Still fighting off sleep, you stare up at Mommy and Daddy, wondering why they woke you up.
âCan you be a big boy and walk or do you need Daddy to carry you?â
Another sensation comes into focus. Something cold. Icky. Smelly. You wiggle your bum, confused. Unwilling to believe the cause of it.
Mommy giggles at adorable diaper crinkles it makesâand the unrelentingly cute face you make realizing the unmistakable truth of your situation: you pooped your diaper.
âOhhh, honey, itâs okay! Itâs just a poopy diapie, Mommy isnât upset, I promise!â
Tears well in your eyes. You hate the feeling of your cold, stinky diaper. You hate the way Mommy baby-talks you like you're some stupid baby. You hate the way Daddy smiles at you while rubbing Mommyâs back.
But more than anything, you want out of this diaper.
Tired and frustrated, you kick your legs against your mattress.
âCan you carry him, babe?â Mommy asks calmly.
âSure,â Daddy replies, reaching down and scooping you up.
No matter how much you squirm and fight, Daddy is too strong. Months of inactivity and baby food have weakened your muscles, unlike Daddy's toned arms.
âNOOOOOO!!!â you whine even louder than before as Daddy lowers you onto the table and you feel your mess squish even more. Tears fall freely off your cheeks now.
âNo no no no! Nooo!!!â
âBaby, Mommy needs you to stop squirming so she can change your didi.â
âNuuuuuuuuu, duh wannaa!â you whimper, still kicking.
You donât know why your diaper is poopy. You donât know why youâre crying. All you know is it feels good to kick and fuss.
Mommy sighs, grabbing your legs with one hand. âI know, I know,â she coos, âMommyâs poor, poopy baby.â
With her other hand, Mommy expertly rips off the tabs of your diaper, barely struggling with your squirming and kicking.
Cold air assaults your private parts, making you somehow feel even worse.
âM-Mommyyy c-cold!â
Mommy tickles your tummy. âMommy knows, pumpkin. If you stop squirming, Mommy can get you a nice warm didi even faster, okay? Can you be Mommyâs big boy?â
A snot bubble pops in your nose. âM-mhmâŚâ you mutter, defeated and just wanting Mommy to make everything better.
âCan you warm these up, babe?â Mommy asks, shoving a handful of wipes into Daddyâs hands.
âSure thing. Warm wipes coming up!â Daddy says, smiling at you as Mommy wipes the snot from your nose.
Mommy uses the front of your diaper to clean up most of your mess before lifting your legs and sliding the diaper off you. She balls up the diaper and tosses it into your diaper pail as Daddy finishes warming your wipes.
âThanks, hun.â
Mommy takes the wipes and gets to work. Daddy makes silly faces at you.
You giggle at the silliness of Daddyâs faces.
A genuine laugh that even surprises Daddy.
By the time Mommy finishes changing your diaper, you've forgotten all about your poopy diaper tantrum.
Mommy blows a series of raspberries on your tummy, forcing you to squirm in laughter.
âHehehehe Mommyyyyy!â
Daddy crinkles your new, fresh diaper. âFeeling better, tiger?â
You nod with a smile.
âThereâs my good boy!â Mommy says proudly.
Without warning Daddy scoops you up and carries you back to your crib. Youâre about to complain about being sent back to bed when you hear Mommyâs voice.
âOne sec, babe. Let me sit down first.â
Daddy stops so Mommy can sit against the rails of your crib. Once comfortable, she starts adjusting her shirt.
âCâmere, stinker,â Mommy coos as Daddy places you on Mommyâs lap.
You look at Mommy, confused. She never sits in your crib like this.
âWha-wha doinâ Mommy?â
And why is she taking off her bra?
Utterly bewildered at seeing Mommyâs boobs for the first time in over a year, you look at Daddy, as if seeking reassurance that itâs okay to look at your wifeâs boobs.
âGo on, squirt,â Daddy says with a smile, removing your pacifier. âIâll give you two some privacy.â He turns off the light and headed out the door.
Before you can ask a follow-up question, Mommyâs hand pulls you into her chest, her nipple tickling your lips.
Instinctively, you open your mouth and latch on. Warm milk trickles into your mouth. You try to pull away.
âHush little one. Just suckle like a good baby,â Mommy assures you, forcing your head back to latch.
You suckle, letting Mommyâs milk fill your mouth. It tastesâŚgood.
It tastes like home. Safety. Comfort.
Mommy hums âHush, Little Baby,â fighting off tears of joy as your eyes grow heavier and heavier, knowing youâre no longer her husband. Youâre no longer an adult.
She finally got everything she wanted.
Perhaps tomorrow youâll think about the implications of your poopy diaper and the warm milk filling your tummy. Maybe youâll understand there is no going back.
But for now there is nothing beyond this moment.
Mommyâs gentle humming, the warmth of her breast against you. The feeling of satisfaction as your tummy fills up.
Not even the gentle crinkles as Mommy pats your diaper can break the spell.
The truth is, summer nights will never be defined by freedom again. Not for you. Youâre not like the baby birds chirping outside your window or the bear cub learning to hunt salmon.
By the end of summer, theyâll have a level of independence youâll never have again.
Unlike them, youâll never outgrow your Mommy. Youâll never regain your independence.
đ°ď¸đ˝â¨ Padded Adventures from Outer Space đŞđđ¸
cue inspiring orchestral soundtrack đťđşđĽ
400 years in the future, humanity has spread to the furthest reaches of the galaxy. A small group of impoverished planets have banded together to form the Coalition: an interplanetary government dedicated to uplifting its citizens. People flock from the outer worlds to join the Coalition's space fleet and work the newly protected trading routes.
Despite humanity's success in joining the intergalactic community, there's one challenge some of Earth's people have yet to conquer: their own potty training! Follow intrepid explorers in their pursuit for peace, self-betterment, and keeping their own pants dry!
CW: abdl, bdsm, humiliation, chastity, cnc, sci-fi, aliens, robots, pirates, and much more! All depicted characters are 18+ and completely fictional fantasies.
Episode I: Reyva's First Day
Captain Reyva stepped out of the sonic shower. She always preferred hot water over sonic, but on a small ship like the Stork, there wasnât room to maintain the water necessary for her hour-long showers. She looks at herself closely in the mirror.
âFirst day. You got this.â
She hyped herself up before stepping into the uniform replicator. The machine was top of the line; the same as what captains on the behemoth Coalition city ships were given. It really didnât belong on a small cargo ship like the Stork, but given Reyvaâs âneeds,â only the most advanced models would do.
It took only seconds, but every morning it was the same. The machine closed around her, the lights turned on, a layer of powder was applied to her nether regions, and the replicator wrapped her body in all the layers she needed. For Reyva and the rest of her crew, that meant comfortable, functional, and modern 26th Century styles appropriate for deep space traders.
What the rest of the crew didnât have to wear that their captain couldnât go without?
âABSORPTIVE UNDERWEAR - 75% CAPACITYâ
Reyva sighed.
â75%? But I was down to 70% yesterday!â
The replicatorâs voice was impassive to Reyvaâs protest.
âCAPTAIN, THAT WAS BEFORE YOU LEAKED AND RUINED YESTERDAYâS UNIFORM. 75% ABSORBENCY WILL ENSURE OPTIMAL THICKNESS TO KEEP YOUR PANTS DRY.â
Reyva sighed again as she stepped out of the machine. The ever present padding between her legs was noticeably thicker. She thought sheâd been making some progress on her new continence regimen, but clearly today was one of those âone step backâ kind of days.
âJust perfect. Exactly what I needed today.â She checked herself in the mirror. Thankfully her pantsâ seat was sized up to accommodate for her extra padding. Her butt looked normal, for now. At least todayâs schedule was fairly routine: a couple of orbital cargo swaps before heading into the Core to land and get some maintenance done on the Wandering Stork. Nothing she hadnât done thousands of times since being hired as the shipâs pilot years ago.
Reyva took a breath and stepped out into the shipâs single hall. It led from the crewâs area and cockpit at the fore to engineering and cargo aft. The Stork had a long history as a smuggling folk legend. Its crew provided relief to poor systems before the Coalitionâs interplanetary government formed. The ship was one of the first of a new sponsored trading fleet the Coalition sponsored to bring prosperity to the newly founded group. She couldnât be more proud to be captaining such a historic ship.
Captain Reyva waddled to the kitchen first. Most of the crew was still asleep this early. The food replicator materialized her black coffee just as fast as her clothes were made around her body. Clanging vibrated down the shipâs hull from Engineering. TâNok, the crewâs engineer must already be patching some fixes theyâd made the night prior. The Stork was historic, and that meant the shipâs main systems were too.
Opening the door to the cockpit, Reyva quickly settled into her familiar routine. Her diapers squelched under her as she sat in what was now her âcaptainâs chair.â She rolled her eyes, thinking of the surprisingly condescending clothing replicator.
âMaybe I do need thicker diapersâŚâ She muttered to herself before strapping herself in. New Coalition guidelines required pilots traveling the warp network to remain buckled to their seats for each warpâs duration. Lots of other pilots complained that some longer warp tunnels were too long to go without a restroom break. Reyva never had to worry about it.
âMorning Captain!â Germaineâs trilling voice called from the kitchen. Reyva could hear her bird-like beak clicking behind her while the space fowl ate her space corn breakfast. It wasnât long before the maternal alienâs toe claws clacked their way to the entrance of Reyvaâs small station.
âI hope your day is starting off well darling!â Reyvaâs communicator translated Germaineâs clicking language into a Southern American accent from the Sol System, for some strange reason. Reyva smiled back at the large, anthropomorphic bird. Germaine had always looked out for the smaller human.
âItâs going just fine Germaine, thanks. Iâm about to leave the waystation and take us into the queue for warp.â Germaineâs feathered hand patted Reyvaâs shoulder before she turned to leave. Her sense of smell was much stronger than the captainâs, and she could already tell Reyva was wet. Their diminutive captain still somehow thought her crew didnât know about her potty training issues, but the entirely alien crew thought it was maybe some human taboo, so they never brought it up.
Hearing her friend retreat back to cargo where sheâd run a final inventory before transfer, Reyva shifted in her seat. Her diaper squelched again. Reyvaâs face flushed softly at the sensation. Despite hating them, Reyva loved how they felt at this level of wetness. Her captainâs chair had a small, ergonomic nub going down the middle of her seat for her legs. Her blush darkened as she straightened up.
âNot now, Reyva. Youâre a captain now. Save it for later!â She told herself as the Stork undocked from the remote waystation where they had rested for a few hours.
She steered her cargo ship toward the warp tunnel entrance and entered the queue. The tunnel managementâs tractor beam towed the Stork into their holding position and when it was their turn, Reyva kicked on the warp drive and took her ship in. Stars and planets whisked by faster than the speed of light while Reyva settled into her job.
The day passed by completely as planned. Reyva ran all the daily system checks and responded to the never ending list of shipping contracts offered to them by the Coalition and its citizens. A few hours later they made their only cargo transfer. They dropped from warp, docked with another ship trading wares. Germaine and the twin rock aliens Gorgorlach and Bub handled everything.Â
When they reentered the warp tunnels, TâNok made their daily check in. The cephalopodâs species was the first to discover the Sol system, where their bio-technological scouts took the form of octopuses to study human development. TâNokâs people were nocturnal and didnât like interacting with others, so the meeting was brief and efficient, as always. The twins were a different story.
âThereâs our precious little captain! Howâs your first day going?â Gorgorlachâs gravelly voice filled the cockpit, despite him not being able to enter on account of his stone body being far too big. Small stones ground together in his throat to make his voice. Reyva always wet herself the first time the vibrations passed through her each day.
âOh hush G! Canât you see sheâs focused on driving the big ship?â Bub, Gorgorlachâs twin sister, barely fit in the cockpit herself. Both of them were made from magnetic stones bonded by their psychic powers. The twins each had two sets of powerful rocky arms, perfect for their jobs as the crewâs muscle for cargo and rough encounters in the wild stretches of space between Coalition planets. Somehow Bub was even more condescending than her brother. She rustled Reyvaâs hair teasingly before the pair retreated to their quarters.
While the interaction was short, Reyva couldnât believe just how close they were to the truth. She never felt âbigâ enough with her diapers, but no matter what she did, she just couldnât master potty training! The rest of her shift was spent simmering over the twinâs teasing. The ridge on her seat became more and more tempting, but she had to wait. The captain couldnât be caught humping her diapers in the captainâs chair!
Finally, they exited the final tunnel and docked with the maintenance station. She was able to escape her safety belts at last. Reyva stood up slowly, letting her blood flow return to normal after such a long time in the chair. She examined her diaper, shocked that she didnât leak.
âItâs so heavy! I really thought I was getting better at thisâŚâ She shrugged to herself, the familiar sense of disappointment washing over her as she returned to her cabin. It didnât take long for all her clothes to come off, leaving her standing in front of her mirror, completely nude except for her diaper.
âI really am just a big babyâŚâ Her pussy clenches beneath her padding, dripping not just with pee. Her thumb slipped into her mouth right when there was a knock at the door. Reyva jumped at least six inches in the air.
âCaptain, weâre going to get some food on the station. Why donât you join us?â Germaineâs voice was kind, but Reyva politely declined. She was too worked up and she didnât want to waste this soaked diaper.
âThank you Germaine, but why donât you bring something back for me? I need to rest after all the tunnel time today.â She can almost hear Gorgorlach and Bub say something, but their rough voices donât pass through the metal door. As soon as the rest of her crew left, Reyva commenced her nightly, carnal ritual.Â
She grabbed her blankets and pillow, stacked them on the floor, and slowly straddled them. Her hands massaged her bare breasts as she started rolling her hips back and forth. The soft, damp, warm padding felt otherworldly against her wet lips as she slowly picked up speed. Her thumb slipped back into her mouth.
âYeth, oh fuck it feelth tho goodâŚâ Despite her crew being much too far to hear her, she keeps her lispy voice down. Sheâs known Germaine, TâNok, Gorgorlach, and Bub for most of her adult life and never once had she told them about her diapers. The secrecy drove her wild, leaving her touching herself every single night to the thought of Bubâs four arms lifting her while Gorgorlach spanked. TâNokâs tentacles creeped into her mind, touching her all over and holding her in place. Germaineâs gentle care, calming her after a hard day. It all made her so wet.
âYeth yeth yeth!â Once again, Reyva found herself sprawled on the floor, panting after succumbing to another mind-melting orgasm in her diapers. Staggering to her feet, she cleaned up her bedding and stepped back into her special replicator.
âABSORPTIVE UNDERWEAR - 80% CAPACITY.â
Reyva sighed, her comfortable, roomy, casual clothes covering her new, dry diaper effectively. She stepped out of her quarters, only to find the rest of her crew had returned and were eating their takeout together. When had they come back? Reyva thanked them, grabbed her food, and apologized before practically running back to her quarters in shame. The rest of her crew watched with bemusement as their padded captain retreated.
âDo you think sheâll ever tell us?â TâNok sighed, his horizontal pupils eyeing Reyvaâs door. Bub laughed while Germaine let out an exasperated sigh.
âYou know humans and their taboos. No one else worries about their continence like them. Sheâll tell us when sheâs ready.â Germaineâs reason was offset by Gorgorlachâs rocky chuckle.
âYouâd think sheâd realize that we know by now, with how much Bub picks on her.â
âHey Iâm way nicer than you are G!â The crew, a happily found family, bickers and jokes into the night before finally retreating to their own quarters to rest before another day exploring the galaxy with their beloved little captain.
Simulating urge incontinence with strict toilet discipline.
I write a program that sets random alarms for you throughout the day. Your smart watch vibrates...
1-2 times an hour while you're awake
2-3 times in the middle of the night
The moment you feel the vibration, you must stop whatever you're doing and rush to the nearest toilet. It doesn't matter if you don't have to pee; the alarm won't stop until you email my bot a timestamped photo of your panties around your ankles as you squat on the potty for the umpteenth time.
After two or three days, you're exhausted and frustrated. You can't get anything done. You can't get a good night's sleep. Every decision in your life revolves around making sure you're never too far from a toilet.
By the end of the week, you just want your life back. You want to be free from the stupid fucking toilet. And you know my price for ending the game.
You squirm and blush and stare at the floor, clenching your teeth and fighting back tears...as you quietly ask me to diaper you.
This caption was written with, is for, and features the adorable @prettymuchpottytrained. I just may have a few more captions left in the tank after all.
Anyone watching you through the baby monitor would be forgiven for thinking you were nothing more than a toddler refusing to sleep. Between the expensive baby monitor Daddy bought and the Bluey nightlight, your infantile state was impossible to miss.
Your Bluey shirt failed spectacularly to cover your overworked Stardust Nursery diaper, which drooped adorably between your legs. Your binky bobbed sporadically while you surveyed the nursery.
Nobody seeing you would ever believe you were actually an adult.
But you could hear what the baby monitor could notâthe telltale sounds of pleasure coming from Daddyâs bedroom.
âAhhh, she's so stinking cute in her widdle diapers!â Mary squealed in delight, watching the diaper-clad girl on Daddy's phone, âSheâs like a real baby with her pacifier!â
âJust wait,â Daddy said behind a smirk, knowing what's about to happen. âIt gets better. But try not to wake her up. It was hard enough putting her down for her nap and sheâs just as fussy as a toddler if it gets interrupted.â
Daddyâs friends nod conspiratorially as they go back to watching the recording on his phone while you nap down the hall, blissfully unaware that your antics are the star of the show.
Had you known the baby monitor had a camera, you might have resisted your urges.
But you didnât.
You couldnât resist the siren song of pleasure. Between Mommyâs moans and Daddyâs decisive gruntsâand your throbbing princess partsâyou were utterly helpless to control yourself.
There you were, kneeling in your crib and diaper, listening to the unmistakable sounds of pure, erotic bliss, forced to accept the truth of your new place in life.
Nobody considered you an adult anymore.
Your nursery was no longer ornamental; it was a functional room designed to handle the needs of a diaper-dependent little one.
Your diapers were no longer accessories; they were necessary. It had been so long since you used the potty that the only time you spent out of them was for baths and the few minutes a day Daddy let your skin air out.
Your clothes no longer serve to highlight your feminine curves; they were designed to make diaper changes easier for Daddy.
Your binky was no longer a âmute button;â it was a necessary tool to calm the nerves of someone too emotionally immature to be expected to self-soothe.
Naptime is no longer an occasional event; it is now a daily requirement to avoid tantrums. One missed nap meant hours of fussiness.
Daddy didnât strip away your decision-making and autonomy because he made you squirm; he did it because he no longer believes you are capable of managing yourself without a caregiver.
He sees you for who you are.
You arenât his strong, independent wife anymore; youâre his poopy pamper princess. He knows you donât need him to be a husbandâyou need Daddy. Someone to wipe the tears off your cheeks when youâre overwhelmed, to change your icky diapies, and to slide your favorite stuffy into your arms before bed.
Which is why Mommy is the one moaning in pleasureânot you.
You didn't get demoted to the nursery because you're just some silly cuckquean, getting off on being relegated to humping stuffies in a soggy diaper. He's not doing it to tease, humiliate, or titillate you.
Heâs doing it because he can no longer imagine the sweet, innocent babygirl who squeals in delight when he blows raspberries on her tummy during poopy diaper changes as a sexual being.
Youâre his baby.
His love for you is as strong as the day he married youâbut the nature of your intimate moments together has irreconcilably changed.
For him, nothing beats the slow, tender evenings with you wrapped up in his arms, staring up at him with sleepy eyes full of love, your binky bobbing slower and slower until you drift off.
Or the rainy weekends when he raids the linen closet so he can build a fort with his little one, making room for every stuffy. Or the binky kisses.
How could he possibly imagine you as an adult with sexual desires?
âWaitâŚsheâs not gonna use that stuffy to do that, right?â James gasped, watching you lay your favorite stuffy on his back.
Mommy and Daddy look at each other, trying not to laugh.
âShe does have one naughty big girl habit,â Mommy chuckled as you positioned yourself with the stuffy, âBut itâs just so stinking cute. Best part is she thinks sheâs sneaky, too.â
They watch your adorably clumsy thrusts into your favorite stuffy. Slowly at first, glancing at the door periodically. Then faster. Greedier.
Mary sighed, âI can't believe I took sex advice from her.â
âMaybe you should take a leaf from her book,â James quipped, âYou've been single for so long, maybe a stuffy would be the perfect boyfriend. Besides, you'd look so cute in one of those diapers! Wait, her little diaper crinkles as she humps are adorable!â
Daddy immediately rushed to pause the video.
âWhy'd you pause it?â
âBecause the video doesn't have sound...â
âWha-whacha wachin', Daddy?â you mumbled. You were too groggy from your nap to be embarrassed about your friends seeing your adorably frizzy hair, diaper, and binky.
âOh, just some boring video, nothing you'd enjoy, kiddo.â
Daddy slid the phone into his pocket before lifting you up and resting you on his hip.
âOh my gosh, do the stars on her diaper fade away when she's wet?â Mary asks, âSee, those stars are normal, and those ones are gone.â
Daddy crinkles your diaper playfully. âThey do! We thought they might help her with some potty training. Seeing her stars go 'bye-bye' might inspire her to stay dry, but...Well, let's just say I expect diapers to be part of her life for a long, long time.â
Knowing your diaper is on full displayâand hearing everyone casually talk about your potty training strugglesâyou hide your face in Daddy's neck, holding onto him like a koala in a hurricane.
âWhat are you doing out of bed, hmm?â Daddy cooed, bouncing you slightly to distract you from noticing his hand pulling back your diaper.
âD-Dada!â you whine at the indignity of this public diaper check.
Daddy rubs your back. âUh oh...are you Dada's little stinkerpants? Poor baby, trying to sleep in that icky yucky didi...â
You peel yourself from Dada's neck to give him your devastating puppy-dog eyes.
âC'mon, baby, let's get you out of that poopy diapie,â Daddy says, heading towards your nursery.
As you're carried off you catch something about a stuffy and laughter.
âWuh funny bou' sthuffie, Dada?â you ask as you're gently deposited onto the changing table.
Daddy tickles your tummy. âOh, they can't get over how much you love your stuffies, that's all.â
For a split-second, a horrible dread crept into your mindâdo they know? Why did Daddy say "love" like that? Did Daddy hear when you...played with Dijon?
But the thought is forgotten the moment cold air rushes into your princess parts as Daddy peels back your diaper.
The only thing that mattered was Daddy putting you in a fresh, warm diaper.
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The morning sun streamed through the bedroom window, painting everything in soft golden light.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning slowly from side to side. Her long brunette hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, a pale blue bow clipped neatly in the centre. The yellow sundress hugged her delicate frame perfectly, it was feminine, flirty, and just short enough to make her feel a little daring.
Itâs been so long since Daddy and I had a proper romantic date, she thought, smoothing the dress over her hips. Just the two of us doing regular couple stuff. Like grown-ups.
She studied her reflection with a hopeful, determined smile. Big Disney princess doe eyes, plump pink lips, and her adorable tiny button nose Daddy always loved to kiss. She'd made sure to apply her make up carefully, highlighting all her best features. Today she looked like a proper girlfriend.
No diapers today, she told herself firmly. The thin lace panties underneath felt light and freeing. I can do this. Iâm going to be his big girl all day. No accidents. Just a real date like old times.
She was smart, capable, and mature⌠and today she was determined to prove it!
Daddy appeared in the doorway, filling the frame effortlessly. He was truly handsome in that easy, comforting way, broad shoulders, expressive face that could shift from gentle to playfully stern in a heartbeat. When he looked at her, his eyes softened with that special warmth she loved more than anything.
âYou look beautiful, princess,â he said, voice deep and affectionate. He stepped inside and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head. âMy pretty date.â
She leaned back against his chest, smiling brightly up at him in the mirror.
âThank you, Daddy! I picked this dress because I thought it would be perfect for walking around the fair. Did you know the local fair has over thirty different food stalls this year? I read about it online. Thereâs even a new cotton candy stand with vanilla flavours. We have to try it.â
He chuckled, that wonderful hearty laugh she adored, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
âIâm looking forward to it, sweetheart. Youâve been so excited about our big date.â
But then he reached for the large pink diaper bag sitting by the door.
Her stomach dropped.
Daddy⌠no.
The frustration bubbled up fast. Everywhere we go he brings that bag. And he only picks daytime activities now because he decided ages ago that I need an early bedtime. Itâs silly. Just because I get tired by eight oâclock doesnât mean I need to be in bed by eight.
When they were first dating, he used to kiss her passionately in the street after a romantic dinner and movie. Now the only âpublic displays of affectionâ Daddy gave her were forehead kisses, boops on the nose, and sly diaper checks when no one was looking.
She had gotten herself all dolled up this morning. Today was supposed to be different.
âDaddy, please,â she said, turning in his arms with a determined pout. Her big doe eyes pleaded with him. âWe talked about this. Today is supposed to be different. I want to feel like your girlfriend, not your baby. I can handle it. I promise. Iâm going to stay dry all day like a big girl. Please?â
He looked down at her with that protective, knowing expression. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
âI know you want to try, my sweet girl. And Daddy is so proud of how determined you are. Youâre smart, youâre bubbly, youâre full of all those wonderful facts and thoughts you love sharing with me. But I also know my little princess. I know how your body works when weâre out having fun for hours. Iâm not going to risk you being uncomfortable or embarrassed. Let me take care of you properly today.â
She fussed softly, cheeks flushing pink as he guided her toward the bed.
âBut Daddy⌠the dress. Itâs so pretty. The diaper will show and Iâll look sillyâŚâ
âYou could never look silly to me,â he murmured, laying her down gently. âYouâll look adorable as always."
The thick diaper crinkled loudly as he worked, the familiar baby powder scent mixing with her signature vanilla fragrance. When he finished and helped her stand, the sundress did little to hide the obvious padded bulk. Every movement made a soft, telltale rustle.
She wanted to believe her old mask could still fit convincingly. That she could still be the big girl she used to pretend to be. But deep down, a small voice whispered that things werenât like old times anymore.
Because now she was his baby girl.
And Daddyâs job was to make sure his little one was safe and cared for.
The car ride started off hopefully.
She held Daddyâs hand across the center console, swinging it gently. The windows were down, letting in warm summer air that smelled like fresh-cut grass and distant barbecue smoke. Her sundress fluttered against her thighs. For a few minutes she let herself believe this was really going to be their day.
âDid you know fairs like this one have been around since the 1800s?â she said brightly. âThey started as agricultural shows but turned into these big celebrations of community and fun. I think thatâs so sweet.â
Daddy smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. âI love how you know so many interesting facts, princess. Tell me more.â
She beamed, feeling a little spark of confidence.
But every bump in the road made the thick diaper crinkle loudly beneath her dress. The pink diaper bag sat openly in the backseat like an unwelcome guest.
When they arrived at the fair, the full sensory explosion hit her. The air was thick with the sweet scent of fried dough, popcorn, and vanilla cotton candy. Children laughed and screamed on rides. Carnival music played from old speakers. Bright lights and colourful booths stretched out in every direction.
Her heart lifted. This could still be romantic, she thought, slipping her hand into his again. We can walk around, eat cotton candy, maybe kiss on the Ferris wheel like old times.
For the first twenty minutes, it almost felt perfect. They walked hand-in-hand past game booths. She chattered away about the history of ring toss games and how the stuffed animals were probably made in the same factories as her favourite plushies at home. Daddy listened thoughtfully with that fond expression.
But then he gently steered her toward the petting zoo area.
âDaddy,â she whispered, tugging his hand. âI thought we were doing couple things. Thereâs a Ferris wheel and a cute photo booth over thereâŚâ
âWeâll get there, sweetheart,â he said patiently. âBut first I want my girl to enjoy herself. Look how cute the baby goats are.â
She tried to stay bubbly, but the sight of parents pushing strollers and toddlers in diapers made her cheeks burn. Her own padded bottom felt enormous under the sundress. Every step made the crinkle louder in her ears.
They stopped at a lemonade stand. Daddy ordered two drinks, one normal cup for him, one sippy cup for her. She accepted it with a small pout.
As the afternoon wore on, the pressure in her bladder built. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to look casual. I can hold it. Big girls can hold it.
But Daddy noticed. He wrapped a protective arm around her.
âEverything okay, princess? Youâre doing that little dance.â
Her face went bright red. âIâm fine. Iâm being a big girl today. I donât need help.â
The urge hit hard and fast while they were at the petting zoo. A sudden, warm rush flooded into her diaper. She froze, mortified, feeling the heavy warmth settle against her skin.
Tears pricked her eyes.
âI⌠I had an accident,â she whispered, voice trembling. âI really tried, Daddy. I wanted to be your big girl so badly today.â
Daddy immediately scooped her up into his arms, carrying her protectively against his chest. âAww, my poor little girl. You tried so hard to be big today, didnât you? But babies have accidents. Thatâs why Daddy brings extra diapers.â
She buried her face in his shirt, tears soaking the fabric. âI thought if I tried really hard, I could be normal for one day. Like we used to be. You used to kiss me in the street and now⌠now you only kiss my forehead and check my diaper like Iâm just a babyâŚâ
Daddy held her tighter. His hand slid down to gently pat the back of her soaked padding.
âBecause you are my baby, princess. My delicate little doll with the big pretty eyes and the pouty pink lips. You tried so hard to be a big sophisticated girlfriend today⌠and you ended up soaking your diaper like the sweetest, smallest girl instead. Doesnât that feel better than pretending?â
She whimpered, face flaming. âDaddy⌠people might hear youâŚâ
He chuckled softly and booped her tiny nose. âLet them hear. So what if they know my baby girl needs diapers to catch all her accidents?"
The words made her feel impossibly small.
He carried her all the way to the family restroom, fussing over her the entire time, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, whispering gentle praises. Inside the stall, he laid her on the changing table and cleaned her with slow, careful wipes, powdering her thoroughly until she smelled like pure baby.
âLook at you,â he murmured playfully while taping on the fresh, even thicker diaper. âAll blushy and embarrassed in your pretty sundress. My delicate little doll needs so much padding, doesnât she?â
She whimpered, covering her face. The humiliation felt endless.
When they stepped back out, Daddy carried her again, holding her close like the precious baby she was.
The fair was still alive with noise and color, but she felt like everyone was staring. The thick, fresh diaper forced her legs into that obvious baby waddle. Every step made a loud, unmistakable crinkle that seemed to echo across the entire grounds.
Her cheeks burned hot. She kept her head down, long brunette hair falling forward like a curtain, hoping no one could see how heavily padded she was.
Daddy pulled her closer with a protective arm around her shoulders, but his voice carried that gentle, playful tease she both dreaded and craved.
âAww, look at my little princess waddling so cutely,â he murmured, leaning down so only she could hear. âThat thick diaper makes you walk so adorably. Does it feel nice and bulky between those pretty legs, sweetheart?â
âDaddy⌠stop teasing me,â she mumbled, even as a tiny, embarrassed giggle slipped out.
He grinned and kissed the top of her head. âBut you get so adorably blushy when I tease you. Look at those rosy cheeks. My perfect padded princess.â
For the rest of the afternoon, she stopped fighting.
She let him push her on the swings. She let him carry her when her legs got tired. She let him fix her paci clip to her dress when she got fussy. Every crinkle, every squish, every caring touch reminded her exactly who she was.
They found a quiet bench a little away from the main crowd. Daddy sat down and effortlessly pulled her into his lap, arranging her so she was straddling one of his thighs. The thick diaper squished noticeably under her weight, the crinkle loud in her own ears.
They stayed like that as the sky turned pink and orange. She let herself relax against his chest, sucking softly on the paci heâd clipped to her dress. The fair lights twinkled around them while carnival music played in the distance. Every now and then Daddy would gently pat her warm soggy bottom.
For the first time all day, the constant crinkle didnât make her want to disappear.
It made her feel safe.
She wasnât too big for her diapers after all.
She was exactly the right size for Daddyâs arms.
This caption was written withâand of course featuresâthe amazingly talented @prettymuchpottytrained02. Such a cutie.
A mobile slowly spins above her crib, barely visible in the soft, warm glow of the nightlight.
Dreamy, delicate melodies of long-forgotten nursery rhymes drift from the antique music box in the corner of the nursery.
None of this made any difference to the sole occupant of the nursery.
Peanut glared at the mobile, her binkie bobbing furiously in her mouth. She dramatically kicked off her blankets in a fit of frustration at the muffled cheers invading her nursery.
It wasnât fair!
All she wanted was to stay up one nightâone night!âpast her bedtime to watch the big football game with Daddy and his friends!
It was her team, too! Daddy knew how excited she was about the game.
She ruminated about how she used every tool in her arsenal to soften Daddy up over the last week. How she went to bed every night without a fuss. Gave him her best puppy-dog eyes each morning when she lay in his lap, suckling her baba.
She even picked up all the toys scattered around her nursery without Daddy asking! Daddyâs perfect angel.
Just to end up in her crib at bedtime.
Another chorus of cheers interrupted the tranquility of her nursery. She kicked her legs at the injustice of it all.
The sudden movement, so similar to the bicycle kicks Daddy insists on whenever her tummy is full of bubbles, results in a stream of toots.
âHmpff,â she pouted, even angrier that her outburst backfired.
She folded her arms, resigned to her fate, until an idea struck her. A smirk grew behind her binky.
If Daddy wouldnât let her watch the game, then she wouldnât let him watch, either.
Grabbing the bars of her crib, she pulled herself to her knees. Her diapered bum floating just above her toes.
The perfect position to fill her diaper.
A series of tiny grunts and ragged breaths filled the room as she pushed, determined to load her diaper.
Her only progress after a few minutes of effort was a single, terrifying toot so loud it must have been heard in the other room.
Red-faced, frustrated, and out of breath, she throws herself flat on her back. Why was it so hard? She never has to try! Most of the time, she doesnât know sheâs pooping until her diaper gets heavy!
Lost in thought, she unconsciously fiddles with her feet, pulling them close to her face.
Suddenly, everyone in the other room cheers in unison, startling her. Before Peanut can react, her diaper crinkles softly as it expands. She reflexively grunts as her body takes over, pushing more mess into her diaper.
Peanut pulls her feet closer, unaware sheâs loading her diaper.
By the time she realizes sheâs pooping, sheâs almost done. Her diaper was already bulging to accommodate its burden. She giggles in between grunts.
Mission accomplished.
She sits up, giggling harder as the mess spreads even more. Usually, sheâd avoid mushing her mess, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
As she reaches for the latch to escape her crib, she notices her favorite stuffie watching her.
Judging her.
âDonâ judth me, Dithon,â she lisps through her paci, âDada thtarted it!â
The enormity of Peanutâs mess is immediately obvious the moment she steps out of her crib; her diaper droops dangerously as she waddles to the door. Her shirt is far too short to cover her diaper.
Had she been less stubborn she would at least have the onesie Daddy got her for the game to support and concealâwell, at least coverâher diaper.
But no, she had to be fussy and reject it.
It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright light, though she waddles on anyway, making her way to noise down the hall, thankful it drowned out her crinkles.
She reaches the end of the hallway, heart beating fast. Not only is she not supposed to be out of bed, she isnât particularly keen on being seen in a diaper this messy.
No matter how many times sheâs been around Daddyâs friends, how many times heâs loudly announced she needed a change, how many times heâs marched her to another room for a diaper change, she still squirms being in a full diaper around them.
She quickly peeks around the corner to find Daddy and get his attention without his friends noticing. To her horror, Daddyâs friend Bailey happened to be looking right at her. She tried to hide, hoping she wasnât seen.
âWas that you, little one? Did I see a peeking Peanut just now?â
Peanut doesnât move. Maybe Bailey will think she was seeing things.
âI did see a peeking Peanut!â Bailey coos, finding Peanut âEverything okay, honey? Daddy put you to bed an hour ago.â
Bailey looks down at Peanutâs droopy diaper.
Unable to meet Baileyâs eyes, Peanut stares at the hardwood floor.
âOh, poor baby, I bet that diaper doesnât feel very good, huh? Come on, honey, letâs go find your Daddy.â
âMâŚm-bu,â Peanut mumbles, eyes wide at Baileyâs suggestion.
âHush, honey,â Bailey soothed the poor girl, wrapping her in a hug and gently patting her diaper, âWe need to get you out of that diaper before we have a blowout on our hands.â
A hand guides Peanut forward, out of the safety of the hallway and into the living room. She feels the eyes of everyone in the room on herâand her diaper.
âUh oh, looks like somebody needs a change!â Jane, another of Daddyâs friends, says.
âYou can say that again, poor thing. Anyone know where her Daddy is?â
âHe just went to the bathroom, Iâll go get him,â Larry says.
A silence that lasts an eternity overtakes the room. Peanut tries to avoid eye contact and pretend everyone is watching the game and not the helpless baby in a poopy diaper.
âPeanut, what are you doing out of bed, hmmm?â Daddy asks as he walks over to his little one, âI was just about to check on you.â
Peanut feels Bailey pat her diaper. âProbably has something to do with this.â
The others in the room groan at the game.
âOh, Peanut,â Daddy says distractedly, watching the game, âIâll change you after this drive, okay?â
âNo, no, no, look at her!â Bailey chastised Daddy, âHer diaper is about to fall off!â
Jane stands up, giving Daddy the evil eye before turning to Peanut, âDonât worry little one, we wonât make you wait. Where are your diapers, sweetie?â
Peanutâs binkie bobs a bit more. âUmmmâŚmânurswy.â
âHoney, youâre lucky your diaper hasnât fallen off already. That wonât make it down the hall,â Bailey insisted, âIâll get you out of that icky diaper right here, okay? Doesnât a clean diapie sound nice?â
This was not the plan.
The plan was for Daddy to change her diaper in the nurseryânot getting her diaper changed by Bailey right here in front of everyone!
Bailey kneels in front of Peanut with the diaper bag, looking deep into her eyes. âYou have nothing to be embarrassed about, little one. Itâs just a poopy diapie. Will you let us get that tushie fresh and clean?â
âM-mhm.â
Bailey tickles her tummy. âGood girl! Your Daddy always brags about his brave little Peanut.â
Somehow, despite getting her poopy diaper changed right there in front of everyone, Peanut found herself loving the attention from Jane and Bailey.
Jane made the silliest faces playing peek-a-boo while Peanut giggled in utter delight whenever Bailey blew raspberries on her tummy.
By the time Bailey carefully rolled her messy diaper into a ball and slid a fresh diaper under her, Peanut could not care less about being changed in front of everyone.
Excited, incoherent babble serenaded the roomâthe sounds of a happy baby having the time of her life.
âThere, all clean!â Bailey said proudly, smoothing out the diaper and admiring her handiwork, âLetâs get you back to bed, cutie.â
âBu bu wa-wan play!â
âSorry, kiddo,â Bailey said with a twinge of disappointment, âAs much as Iâd love to play, itâs well past your bedtime.â
Just as Peanut was about to give up, Daddy walked over with a warm bottle of milk filled with vanilla, honey, and a dash of cinnamon.
âHow can I deny Bailey some quality time with my little Peanut after she wiped her tushie clean? Peanut, if you ask Bailey nicely, maybe sheâll let you sit on her lap and hold your baba for you while we finish the game. Would you like that?â
âYeth pwease, Dada! May I pwease Mith Baiwey? Pwetty pwease?â
âOf course, honey! Iâd love that!â
The last thing Peanut remembered was laying on Baileyâs lap suckling the warm milk from her baba, as Bailey smiled down at the baby with heavy eyes.
Her wet suckles continuing a few minutes after her eyes closed for the last time.
She didnât even stir when Daddyâs team won on a last second field goal.
I think you're broadly right but I would like to share the perspective of a friend of suffers from incontinence and prefers patterns. Now in her case she was born with her condition so it's her "normal" but in her words it is no different that other girls wanting cute underwear. Plain white made her feel like a medical patient in a way the others didn't. Though I should probably also add that she wasn't necessarily talking about the aggressively babyish patterns you can find on abdl diapers and more about the more laid back supermarket ones.
Yeah, I fully understand that. The problem is that there aren't a ton of options between boring medical diapers and aggressively babyish ABDL diapers. Northshore has some options with the blue/pink/black/tie-dye versions, but there aren't many non-babyish design prints. I had a navy and black megamax phase.
Because I get it, I never wore regular white underwear. It was always some dark blue/green/black/grey boxers. So white medical diapers can feel as soulless and depressing as ABDL diapers can seem overwhelming.
Maybe there are less babyish patterns/prints. But from the ABDL diapers I tried, I was unimpressed with the quality and reliability, so I stopped looking. It's quite possible I just chose objectively bad ones. Because none were the super popular ones I see often.
And I'm also in a phase of hating my incontinence and diapers in general, so when that happens, I'm doubly disdainful about my ABDL side. Which is why the captions have basically disappeared and my takes are spicier.
what you mean by ABDL diapers are kink accessories? diapers are just diapers prints or not
I donât think itâs a difference of function, but of form. Because sure, functionally theyâre the same. Though from the printed diapers Iâve tried, I feel like theyâre not as good. Maybe thatâs just a small sample size.
But to me they are kink accessories first and foremost because their purpose and design is to further kink. Theyâre primarily designed to appeal to a kink market and to enhance kinky feelings.
There is a very small subset of people who need diapers that would choose to primarily wear ABDL diapers for non-kinky reasons. Call me crazy, but most people struggling to accept they need diapers and managing their self-esteem because of diapers would be mortified by wearing something like this:
And, once again, itâs important to understand that I donât think there is anything wrong with kinky ABDL diapers. Almost all of my enjoyment of writing captions comes from knowing little cuties in printed diapies are making Crinkle Symphoniesâ˘ď¸ to my captions.
But Iâll also always view diapers and my relationship to them primarily through the terror and utter hatred of when I first needed them. So my takes will probably be different than most.
Do you ever wear babyish diapers or are you afraid that you'll feel like a little baby and you'll like it?
Iâve tried a few samples and they never did it for me. Just not my thing.
I think itâs a function over aesthetics thing. To me printed diapers feel like theyâre made for people who want to wear them, but donât necessarily need them. So they donât seem as authentic or squirmy because theyâre kink accessories.
I think normal white diapers are both more authentic and embarrassing. More natural and less overtly kinky. All white says function over form. You wear white because you need it, not because you wanna feel little.
Which actually makes them more embarrassing and squirmy to me. Or maybe because they remind me of the older pampers from the early 90s which were much more plain. Or maybe because I think all white, non-ABDL diapers just work better and I donât want to be seen in a printed diaper.
Also, this is very important, but I really have no interest in being little. I can conclusively say that. You can tease and insult me, but babying me isnât something that I want or need.
But thatâs just me. Some people like cucumbers better pickled!
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I opened tumblr this morning, as I am wont to do, and found an unusually high number of messages. 14 to be exact.
All from @americanmanlovingdiapered. This "diapered daddy" asked "Would you mind writing a story about my diapered public humiliating whatever else u decide ill send some pics for to work with."
True to his word, he sent pictures "for to work with." And he was quite generous with options! Not content with sending a few pictures, no, he graced my inbox with thirteen pictures of his diapered self.
Thirteen!
Unfortunately for him, I will not subject my followers to the pictures.
But, luckily for him, I am in a generous mood! So here it is, big guy, you're getting exactly what you asked for! Public humiliation. Now everyone knows you lack a basic grasp of social etiquette and boundaries!
Oh little one. Why donât you go back to your nursery and leave all these big kids thoughts to the adults. Youâre pretending youâre such a big kid đ¤ when we alllll know the truth. Youâre just an adorable little tinkle tot đ
See when anons say things like this they might as well just string together a bunch of baby babble. Because in my head itâs just some pamper packer using all their energy to be a big kid for a bit.
And it makes me laugh thinking about it.
So if you want to make me squirmy, donât be anonymous. Please. Because you can literally say the perfect things to get me subby but if I imagine itâs from a silly little, it can never work.
Destyyyy please do a caption with @ssnugglebuggie she would be a perfect model! Im beggingg you
So I get asks and messages like this a lot. Or get tagged in pictures of different people asking for the same.
Let me give a blanket statement for anyone asking me to do something like this:
No.
You tagging me in someoneâs picture doesnât magically make me know them. Just because their pictures are adorable doesnât mean Iâm just able to use them.
Your desires arenât my responsibility.
And especially not if they are using their Tumblr to get JFF or OnlyFans subs. Not because I donât support itâIâd LOVE if my captions could pay for my diapers, let alone making money off thisâbut because they donât need me to write some caption about them. They're much more successful and known than me.
There are levels to this, and that is above my level.
This story was written with, by, and features the super-talented and undeniably adorable @littledreambunny! She wrote the parts from the little's perspective, and I wrote the parts from Dada's perspective. Since it's it swaps perspectives, Dada's parts start in blue and Bunny's in pink.
I catch myself glancing over to the empty passenger seat for the fourth time in five minutes, a habit that suddenly feels all wrong.
At the next stoplight, I pulled out my phone and googled it: the opposite of deja vu is jamais vuâthat eerie sense of unfamiliarity for something that should be second nature.Â
Which makes sense. Weâre driving down the same street, to the same park, to meet the same friends for a picnic weâve had in the same spot countless times.
Yet nothing about this drive feels familiarâthough I guess the cause of the unfamiliarity isnât really a mystery.
After all, there is a perfectly understandable reason why Jenny, my longtime girlfriend, is buckled safely in the backseat instead of riding shotgun as my passenger princess.
That seat is for adultsâa term that no longer describes the girl I see in my rear view mirror, nervously twisting the hem of her sundress, constantly checking if it hides the thick diaper underneath.
She's nervous because today is the first time weâre going out in public, not as boyfriend and girlfriend, but as Dada and his little Bunny.
So maybe this isnât jamais vu.
Though the scene is undoubtedly unfamiliarâat least for nowâIâm sure it wonât be long before itâs our new normal.
My bigger concern is getting her through today with minimal tantrums and meltdowns. Much easier said than done when it comes to changes like this.
Big changes lead to big feelings. And big feelings lead to tantrums if Iâm not careful.
Not that I would blame her if she did, of course. Not today. Not when itâs the first time seeing all her old friends in her new status. I know it wonât be easy for her going from their equal toâŚwell, their adorable little friend.
Her friends would never tease herâquite the opposite! Theyâve been texting me like crazy, asking me about her, for pictures, and if they can bring her any presents. Since littles donât need phones, itâs much harder for them to reach her.Â
Needless to say, theyâre excited about the picnic.
It hasnât been easy putting this together. Until today, Jenny was the one who planned the picnics, assigned tasks, and organized the charcuterie boards.Â
How were we supposed to plan our most important picnic ever when the most important person for planning was busy watching Bluey in increasingly soggy diapers?
We did manage to get some age-appropriate games and snacks for her, so she should be plenty entertained.
Though, the closer we get to the park, her fidgeting has noticeably increasedâŚ
âAre you excited to see your friends, honey? Youâre looking like a squirmy squirrel back there!â
Dadaâs voice floats back, warm and teasing. He calls me his squirmy squirrel again, and my cheeks flare hot right away. The kind of hot that spreads fast, like someone turned a spotlight just on my face.
I duck my head lower, trying to hide. Knees squeeze together tight. That only presses the soggy diapie harder against me. A loud crinkle-crinkle bounces around the car.Â
I freeze. Did he hear? Does it sound as huge to him as it does to me?
The engine is quiet now. The car has stopped. Outside the window everything looks the same as always, big shady tree, picnic blanket already down, my friends laughing and waving like itâs just another day. But itâs not.Â
My heart thumps hard and fast in my chest, so loud Iâm scared Dada can hear it too. My tummy flips over and over, twisty and fluttery, like there are butterflies trying to get out.
I canât do this. I really canât.
âNu-uhâŚnuh-uhâŚnot ready yet, DadaâŚâ My voice comes out so small, barely louder than a whisper. âMy dress is too shortâŚit doesnât cover my diapie at allâŚand itâs all full and squishyâŚevery time I move it makes noiseâŚtheyâre gonna hear itâŚtheyâre gonna seeâŚâ
My fingers grab the hem of the dress. Twist. Pull down hard. The crinkles get louder, sharp and plasticky, like theyâre laughing at how hard Iâm trying to hide.Â
I squeeze my legs again, harder this time. The padding squishes back, warm and heavy. I can feel how soggy it got on the drive. How it sags just a tiny bit with every shift.Â
My face burns hotter. I want to curl up small and disappear under the seat.
The driverâs door opens. Gravel crunches under Dadaâs shoes. My breath catches in my throat.
The back door swings wide. Sunlight rushes in, bright and warm across my face and arms. Dada crouches down right in front of me, so close I can smell his soap and feel the calm that always comes with him.Â
He speaks softly, something about not needing to be nervous, about how no one will tease me, about how heâs got me no matter what. His big hand slides under my chin, gentle, tilting my face up so I have to look at him.
I do. Slowly. His eyes are steady and kind and full of pride. Like being little is the best thing in the world. Like Iâm perfect exactly like this, dress too short and diapie showing and all. My eyes sting a little. The scary knot inside my chest loosens, just enough to breathe again.
âO-okayâŚDadaâŚâ The words shake. Tiny. âPwease⌠hold my hand super duper tight? And⌠donât let go? Even if I get all fidgety and silly?â
He nods, smile soft. âAlways, Bunny. I even brought Sir Hops-a-Lot along, the brave wallaby ready to protect his princess. Now, take a deep breath for meâŚgood girl! Câmon, we donât want to keep our friends waiting.â
Dada reaches in to unbuckle me. His fingers brush my tummy, warm, careful and then heâs helping me slide out of the car. My sneakers touch the ground.Â
The diapie squishes loud and heavy right away. The dress rides up in the back. I yank it down fast with both hands, cheeks on fire again.
His hand is already waiting. Open. Big. Warm.
I slip my smaller hand into his. He squeezes once, firm and sure, like a promise I can hold onto. I reach back for the blanket, hug it tight against my front like armor. We start walking.
Squish. Crinkle. Squish. Crinkle. Every step.Â
The padding shifts and presses. Sags a tiny bit more. I tug the hem down again and again. It never feels long enough.
The blanket gets closer. My friends look up. Big smiles. They pat the spot right in the middle. One of them calls my name, happy, excited, like theyâve been waiting just for me.
I glance up at Dada. Eyes wide. Pleading.
The juxtaposition between the casual, relaxed smiles of our friends and the nervous, pleading eyes of my little Bunny is jarring. As easy as it would be to dismiss it as a necessary part of her new life, I canât.
Not when her needy gaze calls me to action, begging me for the assurance she so desperately needs right now. For a fleeting moment, I can see both worlds in her eyes, the remnants of the big girl sheâs leaving behind and the innocent, neediness of the little sheâs becoming.
As we reach the edge of the blanket, I pull her close to me, hoping the closeness wordlessly conveys sheâs safe with Dadaâas long as she has me, everything will be okay.Â
Even if itâs scary.
âThere she is!â Kate bubbled, waving at Jenny.
Emily shifts to make room for Jenny, patting the spot between her and Kate, beckoning their friend to sit down. âHi sweetie! Come sit with us!â
On the other side of the blanket, Anna smiles quietly, taking in Jennyâs outfit. Caleb offers that same, laidback grin heâs known for, as he leans back on his elbows, relaxed. Toby fumbles with a bag of gummy bears before awkwardly thrusting it at Jenny.
âThat outfit is so stinking cute!â Lisa beamed.
They all smile expectantly at Jenny. Not staring. Not judging.Â
As if theyâre seeing something brand new yet strangely familiar at the same time.
I give Jenny another squeeze. Even as a big girl Jenny rarely enjoyed being the center of attentionâand today, sheâs the star of the show.Â
âHey, everyone!â I add, hoping to give Jenny a moment to compose herself. Her hand still clings to mine, slick with sweat.
My hand is still tucked inside Dadaâs, fingers damp and clinging. The diaper beneath the sundress feels impossibly present, warm, heavy, sagging just enough that every breath reminds me itâs there.
The hem of the dress brushes my thighs, too short, too thin, offering no real cover. A soft crinkle escapes when I shift my weight. Tiny. But in my ears it booms.
Heat rises again, slow and relentless. It starts behind my ears, creeps along my jaw, floods my cheeks until they feel like ripe summer peaches left too long in the sun. I duck my chin, trying to hide the flush, but it only makes the blush feel bigger, brighter, more impossible to conceal.
I was the one who used to double-check the weather, who made sure the charcuterie board had balance and color and texture.
I was the one they asked for advice, for plans, for the next step.
Now Iâm standing here with my hand in Dadaâs like a child crossing a busy street.
Now my dress is too short and my padding is too full and my legs wonât quite straighten the way they used to.
Now the clever, capable Jenny feels like a coat Iâve outgrown, still hanging in the closet, still mine, but no longer the one I reach for first.
The thought twists in my chest. Sharp. Sweet. Embarrassing.
A little thrilling.
I swallow. Clear my throat. Try to summon that old voice.
âH-hi,â I squeak, finding my voice, âWe should⌠move the fruit to the shady side.â
The words come out softer than I mean them to, higher, almost questioning.
âAnd maybe start with Uno? Itâs quickâŚand everyone likes itâŚâ
They donât laugh. They donât correct me. Kate just nods slowly, smiling gently.
I do my best to stifle a laugh. Big or little, Jenny canât resist giving advice about the optimal picnic setup.
âHmm, thatâs a good point, Jenny,â Kate answers, âBut look, weâve already got everything set up. Come sit?â
She pats the blanket again, the motion small, inviting.
I gently nudge Jenny forward. âGo sit with Kate, Bunny,â I whisper to her, âBesides, you donât need to worry about all that boring planning anymore. Leave that to the big girls.â
Jenny shoots me a look somehow both mutinous and needy. Not that I blame her, but the point remains.
Littles donât plan events or give orders to adults.
Emily reaches over without a word and places the box of animal crackers in front of the spot theyâve saved.
Anna shuffles the Uno cards with practiced ease. âReady when you are,â she says softly.
Itâs hard not to feel sentimental at a moment like this. Here, at the crossroads between two worlds, hearing our friends talk to her like the Little she is, supporting her choice to go back to babyhood.
From here, the gulf between the women they will become and the little Jenny is becoming will become an expanse. Unlike her friends, Jenny will never become a doctor, lawyer, or teacher. Sheâll never get married, have children, or buy a house.
No, Jennyâs path is painted in pastels.Â
Sheâll be my Bunny, my babygirl. Her days will be spent in the crinkly embrace of diapers, nap times, and being rocked to sleep on my lap.
Yet, one thing I know for sure is theyâll be her friend throughout it all.
I glance at Dada. His eyes hold mine, steady, warm, brimming with something that looks like pride and something softer, familiar, like the first light after a long night.
His thumb traces one slow arc across my knuckles.
The touch loosens something inside me. Not all the knots. Just one. Enough to let me take a step forward.
I lower myself carefully. Knees together. Dress smoothed as best I can. The padding compresses beneath me. A muffled squish. Warm. Heavy.Â
I freeze for a heartbeat, waiting for the sound to echo, for someone to notice.
No one does. Or if they do, they donât show it.
Anna deals the first card. Caleb makes a joke about drawing four. Lisa passes me the juice box.
âDonât drink it too fast,â Lisa suggests quietly.
Like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
I take a sip. The sweet-tart bursts on my tongue. The cracker crunches between my teeth. The cards slide across the blanket. Laughter ripples around me.
Dadaâs knee brushes my back, warm, solid, present.
The old Jenny, the one who used to direct traffic and keep score, feels thinner now. Like a shadow stretching long at dusk. Still there. Still me.
But fading softly in the golden light.
And in her place, something smaller begins to stir. Quiet. Warm. Blushy. Safe.
I match a red card. Smile shyly when Anna cheers. Tug the hem of my dress one more time, a habit, useless, sweet.
The butterflies in my tummy slow their frantic wings.
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Bless her heart, sheâs really digging deep into her bag of tricks.
Maybe I shouldnât be so arrogant, though. Because had it not been a stroke of genius on my part, I donât think I couldâve resisted her.
I mean, just look at her.
She's as beautiful and sexy as ever. Every movement, every look, every action is designed to be irresistible to guys like me.
And over the last few weeks, her attempts to seduce me have only become more common and more desperate.
Unfortunately for her, I know exactly whatâs happening.
Extinction burst.
The last gasp of behavior before it fades awayâeven if it increases in intensity and frequency before it happens.
Which is exactly whatâs happening here.
Transitioning her to her new life in the nursery was easier than expected, all things considered. After all, it was her idea. This is exactly what she asked for.
So, even though there were tantrums and meltdowns along the way, especially when she realized that she would spend her life in diapers, Iâm proud of how well she adjusted to it all.
Except for this.
Maybe it's because she naively believed sheâd maintain some control over her life despite volunteering to waddle back to babyhood.
Maybe itâs because she got so used to getting her way simply by using her charms and beauty that she just assumed it would always be the case.
It doesn't matter.
All I know is that, whatever the cause, sheâs laying the charm on thick, pulling out all the stops. So confident that sheâll get her way.
Do you see the way she bites her lip while playfully rubbing my arm? Iâm willing to bet that move had a 100% success rate back in the day.
But babies like her have no need for such behavior.
Which is why she doesnât understand the reason there is an adorable cartoon triceratops on her diaper right now. Or why the diaper before it had a sleepy t-rex on it.
But I doâand itâs not the silliness of getting hit on by a woman in a diaper with a cartoon dinosaur thatâs helping me resist her advances.
Though it is absolutely adorable.
No, itâs the delicious symbolism the dinosaur represents. Or maybe itâs ironic? I donât know, I never paid attention in English class.
The point is, she has no idea why everything she does is so stinking cute to me right now. No idea sheâs wearing an extinct animal on her diaper during an extinction-burst behavior.
No idea that, like all babies, her behavior is so simple and predictable to the real adults, like Daddy.
Just like the cute little triceratops on her diapie, her time of thinking of herself as a sexual and mature adult woman is also going extinct.
Once she realizes her old tricks no longer work, the behavior will disappear, like her time on the potty and days without naptime.
She will finally be the baby she wanted to become.
But until then, Iâll enjoy the next few days or weeksâhowever long it takesâlaughing at the futility of the advances of a girl with a cartoon dinosaur on her diaper.
*This caption was originally supposed to be for my other blog, @theneedfulthings, but I didn't think it was good enough. And since I'm having a hard enough time writing, I'll just post it here instead of letting it rot in my draft box.
So, this will probably be my least popular post ever, but here we go.
One thing Iâve noticed since coming here is that a lot of littlesâmost commonly with diaper boys, but certainly not exclusivelyâcan really struggle to find relationships. This kink seems to be lonely in general, but especially for some more intense of you.
And as much as I thought it was probably because it can be a fairly unusual kink to integrate with vanilla partners, I donât think thatâs the biggest issue.
This may sound mean and unfair, but to be honest, it feels like a lot of you are your own worst enemy. At least on tumblr, so many of you cannot seem to respect the few mommies on here, sending aggressive DMs about your diapers and treating them like they exist to make you squirmy. And donât get me started on the wannabe Daddyâs, youâre just as bad.
And even those who understand that women, Mommies especially, donât exist to be their kink dispenser, often struggle with expecting Mommy to be the primary mover of the relationship.
This will sound especially bad, though I know there is far more variance than what Iâm about to say. So do not take this in the most negative light.
But littles are inherently the most selfish subs that exist. They want to have their caregiver check and change their diapers, handle their emotions, control their bedtimes, food, and often sex lives.
Caregivers are expected to handle the emotional labor, most of the physical labor, and create a world where the little gets to enjoy pure bliss.
And that is not inherently bad. Itâs not that Caregivers donât want to give all that for the ones they care about!
The problem is when littles come to expect and demand thatâand donât believe they need to bring anything else to the relationship.
Certainly there are some caregivers that prefer to handle all that, but most people want to be in a relationship first with kink play second.
Based on what Iâve seen, I think too many diaper boys think primarily of what a Mommy/Daddy can do for them. They want a Mommy/Daddy first and relationship second. It doesnât seem to me many think of what thy are bringing to the caregiver except a soggy diaper and demands.
Ask most women in this kink and they will tell you horror stories of diaper boys sending gross and demanding messages. I know that is not all of youâitâs not even most of youâbut it still happens too often.
And even those who wouldnât ever do that, just wait so their Mommy/Daddy in Shining Armor to find them and make all their diaper dreams come true.
I donât know, I want everyone to be happy. But the longer Iâm here the more I think so much of the loneliness isnât necessary.
I know that Iâm going to get a ton of âwell, thatâs not me!â and âWell, actually!â Most will not engage in what Iâm saying or understand that I donât think this applies to a ton of you.
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