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.
There is also my story blog, @destinedfordiaperstories, where you'll find longer stories. And, of course, my all-time favorite story, Sammy's Little Problem.
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.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I don't believe I asked this one before, but... oh well if I did.
Pick one of your stories to live in. As a new life, meaning you can't go back. What you pick is forever your new destiny. But you'd have to be the diaper boy in that story, no being the daddy, just the baby. What would you pick?
Would you rather go for comfort, humiliation, or naturally something in between..., maybe just something else entirely?
Chalk up this question to curiosity.
Great question! I'm surprised I haven't thought about this myself.
If I can cheat by swapping genders, then Sammy's Little Problem because Alyssa is the best caregiver I've written and I'd prefer to be little in a world where littles are accepted and aren't seen as strange/sexual deviants by the puritanical vanilla world.
Or I can REALLY cheat by choosing this caption, which I already lived because it's based on telling my wife about my incontinence. So, hopefully it is, in fact, forever because you know, my wife is in it.
But in the spirit of your question, then Momma Mia for many of the same reasons. If it's going to be a long-term thing, not merely a scene, I want comfort and love with a dash of humiliation. Plus daycare sounds wayyy less stressful than being an immigration lawyer right now.
The more intense, sexually frustrated captions may seem hot, but I consider captions like My Kink Is Karma and Forever Young to be Twilight Zone-level nightmares.
I'd choose Somewhere In My Memory without any limitations. I'm in love with the idea of my wife "co-parenting" a little with me rather than her being my little. Ugh, I'm obsessed with it.
Just like the rest of our life, Mommy made the decision without your input.
The baby blocks scattered in front of you offered little stimulationâbut it was still better than naptime.
Naps meant an hour of staring at the ceiling, wondering why you let yourself fall so far down the rabbit hole.
Mommy hovered over you, silently waiting for you to grab the blocks and put them away.
âIâm not even sleepy.â
Squatting down next to you, her hand slides under your chin, forcing you to meet her expectant gaze.
âToys in the bin, honey.â
Her voice was sickly sweet, dripping with an innocence that betrayed the authority beneath it.
This wasnât a negotiation.
A rare emotion bubbles within you: defiance.
âN-no!! Donâtwanna nap!â
You wield it clumsily, like a technical skill you havenât used in years.
Because you havenât.
Turning away from Mommy, you see the room that you once believed was the culmination of every fantasy you ever had.
Now it mocks you as a monument to the monotony of your life as her baby.
Dreadful silence blankets the room. Every second weakening your resolve as you wonder what she will do. Mommy never tolerates disobedience.
Will she spank you? Will she tell Daddy? Will you spend the next 20 minutes in the corner with a bar of soap in your mouth?
You take a deep, steadying breath. It doesnât matter what the punishment is. Youâre sick of being a baby.
âIâŚI wonât!â
Mommy sighs.
âJason, look at me.â
Whatever reaction you expected, this was not it. She hasnât used your name or addressed you like an adult in well over a year.
Maybe she understands!
You stare into your eyes, searching for some hope.
âWhatâs gotten into you?â
Her question seems genuine. Inviting. This is your chance to tell her everything.
That youâre tired of living life as her baby, without any say in what happens in your life. Tired of the mind numbing baby shows and Fischer Price toys that turn your brain to mush.
That youâre tired of everyone in your life dismissing you like youâre some silly toddler, unworthy of respect or dignity. Tired of early bedtimes, daily naps, and boring, unspiced food.
That youâre tired of wearing diapers and having them changed whenever and wherever she decides. Tired of Winnie the Pooh overalls with snaps at the crotch, Bluey diaper shirts, and pastel onesies.
That youâre tired of diapers being the only place youâre allowed to cumâif Mommy gives you permission. Tired of listening to your best friend fuck your wife while you sleep in a crib.
Itâs not cute anymore. You want to be an adult again.
âI want my old life back. No more baby stuff. Iâm an adultâtime you remember that.â
Mommy laughs.
âOh, honeyâŚno.â
The simple denial, unburdened by any explanation, feels like a slap in the face.
âWhat do you mean, no?â
âI mean, no. Nothing will change for you.â
âYes, it will! You canât force me to be your baby!â
âYouâre right.â
âSo, youâll stop treating me like a baby?â
âNo.â
âThenâŚthen Iâll leave!â
âThe doors right there, baby.â
For a split second, you think about your freedomâuntil the reality hits.
Mommy smiles knowingly as you work through the situation.
You have no adult clothes. No cell phone. No money. No car. No driverâs license. Nothing but a stack of diapers and a closet full of onesies.
âNeed help packing a bag?â
Her voice oozes with the same infantile cadence you hate. No different from how a parent would entertain a toddler threatening to run away.
âMommy gave you everything you wanted, hun. You wanted âthe real thing,â remember? Not role-play, not a dynamicâno, you wanted authenticity.â
She pokes your diaper.
âWell, you got it! Why do you think I insisted that you give up your law license? Or close your bank accounts and credit cards? Let your driverâs license expire? Hmm?â
She tickles your tummy.
âSee, being a baby isnât just about poofy diapies, colorful pacifiers, and adorable onesies, kiddo. Nope! Real babyhood requires utter dependence on Mommy for your every need! Babies canât survive without their mommiesâand neither can you!â
The full weight of her words crashes down on you.
âYou have no money, no job, no place to go. But, sure, if you want to leave, Mommy will put you in a fresh diaper and new onesie, pack you a diaper bag, and wish you luck.â
Her smile throws you off balance.
âIâllâŚIâll call m-myâŚmy friendsâŚâ
More laughter.
âSweetie, everyone knows youâre a baby. Who is going to volunteer to babysit you? You canât pay rent, canât help with groceries, and need someone to change your diapers. Nobody is letting you stay with them.â
âI donât need diapers!â
âYouâre incorrigible, kiddo. Your diaper is leaking, by the way. Did you know?â
âIâŚâ
âFace it, sweetheart. There is no going back. Mommy made sure of that. Youâre so far from adulthood that I claim you as a dependent on my taxes. Besides, what law firm is desperate enough to hire someone with a 3-year gap in employment? Your resume will be written in crayonâŚâ
She giggles at the ridiculousness.
âEven if you did leave, youâre not leaving behind diapers. You understand youâre not potty trained, right? And, honey, do you remember your last stiffie?â
Her silence demands an answer.
âI-I-I-IâŚdunnoâŚâ
She pinches your cheek.
âAww! Thatâs because I took them just like your potty training! Even if I played with it, begging you to get hard for MommyâŚnothing would happen. No more stiffiesâŚever!â
Your heart sinks into your stomach.
âLast question, baby boy. What woman wants an unemployed, impotent man-child who isnât even potty trained?â
You shrug, defeated.
âOh, sweetie, donât be sad! Mommy wants that, silly! Me! I worked hard to make all your dreams come true! And mine.â
âB-but you said you w-werenât into being aâŚa mommyâŚâ
âI wasnâtâŚat first. But now? Fuck it turned me on stripping you of every shred of masculinity and adulthood. Breaking you down into my helpless, docile plaything. Youâre my itty bitty Play-Doh, waiting to be molded by my hands.â
âTh-thatâsâŚy-youâre lying!â
âNo, baby. Youâre going to spend the rest of your life as my babyâall because it turns me on. You could never dream of doing that as my husband. Ugh, Iâm dripping just thinking about it.â
She bites her lip, sensing your surrender.
âNow. Tell me youâre Mommyâs baby. My good boyâŚâ
Your cheeks burn with humiliation of the truth.
âIâŚmâyourâŚMommyâs b-babyâŚandâŚand good b-boy.â
âNow, naptime. Mommy needs to play with DaddyâŚâ
You start grabbing your blocks.
âNo. Crib. You can clean after.â
Mommyâs cheeks are flushed with anticipation as she hastily tucks you in.
âBe a good boy and listen to how happy your rightful place makes Mommy.â
You barely have time to register what the rest of your life was going to be before Mommy is screaming Daddyâs name. Your useless nub twitches but remains as steadfastly squishy as your diaper.
This is how youâll spend the rest of your life.
Utterly and completely dependent on the woman who stole your adulthood, emasculated you, and relegated you to a lifetime of pampers.
A plaything in someone elseâs fantasy you foolishly thought was yours.
They're still bad! I exclusively used Megamax for 5 years, like a case on auto-order every 2 weeks level of commitment.
But the made-in-USA ones are sooooo bad that I've been ordering samples from every brand I can find to find a replacement.
I ordered so much that when I canceled my auto order, I got an email from their customer service asking about my decision. They're apparently working on an improved version but didn't say when to expect it.
I've found the ABDRY overnights from LittleforBig to be a decent replacement, though.
Thanks to my rampant, unrelenting ADHD, I have never eaten breakfast. Most days my first morsel of food came at dinner.
My therapist has been begging me to eat something in the morning. Then, after a particularly worrisome cancer scare in May, my gastroenterologist told me that skipping breakfast is not ideal, either.
So, I started eating cottage cheese, chia seeds, flax seeds andâhereâs the kickerâblueberries and blackberries.
Just in time for some parasitic spread.
I am now alternating between freezing cold and sweating. Iâve almost used the bathroom more to poop than pee. Which for someone who pees as much as me in a day, isnât ideal.
All because of the breakfast I didnât want to eat.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I want to come out and say for 100% certainty I am not a potty pants! I am not wearing a diaper that's soggy and do not need them for accidents! I am a grown up and there's nothing you can do to prove me wrong or say otherwise đ¤
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.
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.
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!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
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.
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.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
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.
I'm trying. The last two months may be the worst period of writer's block ever. I haven't been able to come up with new ideas and even when I do, I feel like my writing is sloppy and disorganized.
It goes in cycles. I think November and December were my two best months ever in terms of quality and squirminess of captions. I was so in the zone that I even made another blog that I think has my best writing.
But I am writing a caption with a very talented writer that I am quite excited about. It should be really good. So to answer your question: kinda.
Destined for Diapers @destinedfordiapers - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
