This is my diaper friend… Isn’t he the cutest baby boy
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@diaperedbottom247
This is my diaper friend… Isn’t he the cutest baby boy

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Endlich Urlaub… Er beginnt mit einem Kurztrip nach Lignano Italien. Noch 3 Stunden dann sind wir da… ich freu mich auf das Baden im Meer mit Daddy.
Er will mir das Schwinnen beibringen…
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Finally holidays… He starts with a short trip to Lignano Italy. 3 hours later we are there … I am looking forward to swimming in the sea with Daddy.
He wants to teach me to swim …
Juhu unsere riesige Windelbestellung kam endlich an... 71 Windelpackungen
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Juhu our huge diaper order finally arrived ... 71 diaper packs
Really need to lock in and get a lot done today but also really want to wear a diaper rn
mommy's little soccer star ⚽️

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Going for a run
One of those nights
Are you diapered right now?
Of course😜
Yep diapers are my preferred undies
They are my only underwear
Yes don’t know how to feel without them
Little boy soggy pants.

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My girlfriend dumped me two weeks ago. Now I’m hairless and waiting for her brother to cage me. When I met her parents, her father looked at her and said, “He’s more your brother speed, don’t you think?” I didn’t know what he was talking about but I do now. I’m a fag and today I’m going to get caged and start living like one.
All bottom bitch Reblog
Join me on my daily routine getting ready for work from wake up to about to leave the door. This is my life living with incontinence.
Interview with the Diaper Boy - Part 2
My interview with Hayden continues from Part 1. There, Hayden agreed to collaborate and share about his life and experiences. Hayden is 22 years old and lives with his childhood friend and boyfriend Reid.
__________________________________________
Q: You mentioned the school's diapering policy when you were in middle school. What else do you remember about it?
A: Um . . . when you say "the school's" policy, I guess I should clarify something. The policy wasn't actually set by the middle school I went to in Fort Worth. It was broader than that. Although I assume there must have been a degree of discretion in how the policy was applied, because of how procedure changed from middle school to high school. My IEP and 504 changed too.
Q: Ok, but wait though. What is an IEP?
A: An IEP is an individualized education plan. I had an IEP because my "disabilities" were believed to impact how I learned and functioned. So that meant I needed "specialized" instruction and other support and accommodations based on my "needs." The way that worked is I had a bunch of different "goals" about my behavior, emotional regulation, impulse control and social regulation. Almost all of my "goals" were compliance based.
My step-mom monopolized that entire process when we moved to Fort Worth. Academically, she had a whole case prepared about how I was too stupid to keep up with regular subjects or even understand the material. She also said I couldn't talk or interact with others properly and I couldn't tie my shoes or recognize when I needed to go to the bathroom.
Thankfully, her say-so wasn't the only thing considered. I probably would have been forced into a self-contained classroom after I had to repeat the 6th grade, if not for the functional assessments. My grades at my old school were the primary basis for why my step-mom argued I had learning disabilities.
Q: Your "disabilities"? It sounds like you don't like that word.
A: The word "disability" is actually a term with a specific legal meaning in the context of education law, but that's not the only context in which it's used.
When people talk about "disabilities" or being "disabled" in a general sense, they rarely know what counts as a disability in a legal or policy sense and what does not. Instead, they fill in the gaps with stereotypes, over-generalizations and assumptions without any actual basis. Those tendencies have consequences that people don't think about unless they've been on the receiving end of the harm they cause.
In the context of an IEP, a "disability" includes way more than just learning and intellectual disabilities. It includes sensory, emotional, communication, physical, neurological and a ton of other kinds of disabilities. So autism, ADHD, dyspraxia and stuff like that are totally within the scope.
None of those things imply cognitive impairment. But people assume that being disabled in any way that qualifies you for an IEP means you're cognitively impaired. Like you can't learn properly. That is why autistic, ADHD and neurodivergent people (especially teenagers) get treated like very young children or infants. It's also why my idiot step-mom assumed I was stupid because I couldn't tie my shoes. Even after she had my IQ tested and she had objective proof I wasn't stupid, she still treated me like I was. It's why she made me have a fucking babysitter when I was 18 years old, for example.
Doctors did that too. They still do. They have all of my life. Here's an example. When my step-mom took me to my regular doctor when I had the flu in high school, the doctor barely even talked to me. He asked me questions like I was a toddler. Then he turned to my step-mom to ask the questions that mattered. With the answers she gave, he might have thought it was necessary to test me for mono. Which . . . just . . . no.
My step-mom gave him wrong information about MY symptoms and I corrected her. But this fucking doctor gave me the "hey buddy" line about letting her talk so he could figure out what was wrong. I hate that phrase so much. Whenever some fucking adult began their line with "hey buddy," I always knew what it meant. I would be treated like a child and talked down to, while everything I said would be totally ignored. Then if I tried to advocate for myself, my cunt step-mom would say I was being "disrespectful" and make up an excuse to punish me or whatever.
Q: That sounds really traumatizing.
A: Yeah. It was.
Q: What about your 504? What is that?
A: A 504 is a "plan" is something you get when a disability impacts your ability to fully participate in school and school-related stuff. So like if you have some kind of diagnosed disability, the point of a 504 "plan" is to figure out how you can participate in regular classes with other non-disabled students.
In all fairness I probably needed a 504 plan because I literally could not function in normal school and classroom settings. That school was a total sensory nightmare.
Q: What was it like having to repeat the 6th grade?
Bro . . . I fucking hated it. I was in these crazy easy classes and I was so bored. I got in trouble a lot because most of my teachers just wrote me off.
So here's an example. I had this one teacher who would just relentlessly bully this girl in my class who clearly had problems. I don't know what they were but she just wasn't okay. The way he looked at her was also really creepy. All of the other kids in the class just let it happen. This girl broke down in tears a few times in class.
One day I'd just had enough of watching all of this happen. It was really bothering me how he treated her because legit I'd been on the receiving end of that shit myself for all of my life. So I called him out in front of the whole class. He told me to shut up and sit down. He refused to apologize to her. Then, he got super aggressive with me and made me go to the principal's office. I got called aggressive, disruptive and insubordinate.
I told the principal what happened and yet . . . for whatever fucking reason . . . still got a written warning. Basically, a pink slip saying that if it happened again I could face some kind of disciplinary consequences.
Then my step-mom had to sign it and she totally didn't give a shit about what happened. She believed this creep bully piece of shit teacher and accused me of lying, then spanked me and made me stay in my room the whole night after I got done with my homework. Like whatever.
The next time it happened I got another pink slip and I got paddled at school. That was hilarious. So in Texas paddling students is a thing. It's legit insane. The vice principal made me bend over a chair while he hit my butt with some fucking wooden plank. Didn't hurt much because I was wearing one of those stupid medical diapers. But I was still paddled. I had three "swats" as they called it. My step-mom spanked me at home for real then, too. Like, bare bottom as per her usual ritual. But the punishment at school was a fucking joke.
Third time it happened they tried to remove me from the classroom. But eventually, the principal listened to me and that teacher had something happen to him because he straight up disappeared in the second half of the year.
Q: How many times did you get paddled?
A: I really don't remember. I think by the tenth time or so they stopped because they were concerned about getting sued.
Q: What do you mean?
A: My step-mom threatened to sue them. I don't remember the details. They stopped paddling me after that.
Q: So she could spank you but they couldn't?
A: Yeah . . . I guess so. I never got paddled again after that, even in high school. Other kids did. But I didn't.
Q: Did you still have to wear diapers in high school?
A: Yeah. Same routine for the most part, but there were some changes by the time I was a junior.
Q: What kinds of changes?
A: Like I don't remember everything, but the anti-strip onesies came back for me when I was a sophomore for a little while.
Q: What was the cause?
A: I had an allergic reaction to something and I was really itchy, so I was scratching my lower back and accidentally unsnapped the onesie I was wearing. I took off my hoodie and the "adults" accused me of trying to remove the onesie. This teacher I had at the time said I was behaving erratically and being disruptive. So I spent the rest of the year in anti-strip onesies. Even at home. It was really stupid, but whatever.
Q: What was it like having to wear the anti-strip onesies as a sophomore?
A: These onesies were the anti-strip onesies with some kind of snaps I couldn't remove by myself. They zipped in the back at the side. While they were less of a sensory nightmare than some of the others, just imagine trying to sleep like that. It was hard.
So when you were sixteen, you probably could at least see yourself without someone else around. I couldn't. I couldn't even shower with the bathroom door closed and as soon as I got out, either my step-mom or my step brother would put me in a diaper and one of those fucking back-zip onesies. Like I couldn't even get myself off because I couldn't get my hands inside those onesies.
I looked a lot younger than I was, too. I didn't have much body hair, but it was still removed. I still don't have any body hair for the most part. Especially around my lower abdomen because that was my "diaper area" and having hair there was unhygienic or whatever.
It was also super humiliating because it was just one more rule or whatever I had that no one else my age had. Like all of the stuff most teenagers do without even thinking about it, I couldn't. I had an iPad but it had parental controls on it that limited what I could do with it. Like YouTube kids and basic games and stuff. I had a laptop but it had parental controls and screen time limits. While most 16 year old guys were either learning how to drive or had cars of their own by then, I was getting my diaper changed by a babysitter and spanked by step-mommy dearest whenever I misbehaved.
Now I kind of like being babysat and spanked. But only by Reid and only on my terms.
Q: How does that work?
A: Reid and I negotiated the terms together, I guess. We actually have it written down somewhere, and we check in on how things are going every now and then.
Q: Who came up with the terms?
A: I think Reid came up with some of them and I came up with others. But both of us had to agree before they'd apply.
Q: What are some examples of the "terms" you're talking about? Are they rules? Maybe routines, or something else?
A: Um . . . like all of the above, I guess?
__________________________________________
More to come in Part 3.
Is it normal at 36 to tuck in your stuffies before you leave for work? Or just me ? Hehe

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.
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REGELN FÜR EINEN BETA-WINDEL-CUCKHOLD
1. Windeln sind 24/7 verordnet
2. Permanente Keuschhaltung (KEIN SEX)
3. Samen entleeren nur über anale Penetration
4. Urin, Stuhlgang und Ejakulat müssen in der Windel landen
5.Es ist das Ziel inkontinent zu werden, deswegen muss jeglicher Druck sofort in die Windel entladen werden
6.Pampers over Pussy (100% Pussyfree)
7. Der Windelbeta lässt sich anal penetrieren und trägt einen Tunnelplug um unkontrolliert einzukacken
8. Der Penis des Windelbetas wird durch Käfighaltung so klein wie möglich gehalten
9. Der Windelbeta sagt immer offen und ehrlich das er Windeln braucht.
10. Windeln werden nur gewechselt wenn Kot in der Windel ist
11. Jeder Windelwechsel wird mit Fotos dokumentiert
12. Der Beta schaut dabei zu wie die Partnerin richtigen Sex hat, ohne dabei ihre Pussy zu sehen.
13. Der Windelträger muss sich nach spätestens 3 Monaten mindestens mit Stufe „Bettnässer“ vom Arzt diagnostizieren lassen. Bestenfalls grad 4 Doppelinkontinenz. So bekommt er, wie es sich gehört die Windeln von der Krankenkasse.
14. Wenn es dem Windelcuck erlaubt wird den Käfig abzunehmen und er dann sein MicroPP in der Pampers reiben darf, hat er innerhalb von 30 Sekunden zu ejakulieren. (Maximal alle 6 Wochen)
15. Es sollten mindestens 4,5 Liter Wasser getrunken werden damit der Windeljunge ständig stark einnässt
The Park
“Come here let me check your diaper baby.”
I look up from the sand over at Daddy. He brought me to the park today despite me pouting (which earned me a spanking and fifteen minutes corner time) before we left. Luckily there was only a few other people at the park and they were in a different area and seemed unaware of me playing in the sand under Daddy’s watchful eye.
“Yes Daddy,” I lisp around my pacifier and get up and walk over to Daddy. As I take my place in front of him he kisses me. I glace you around nervously as Daddy lifts my dress and slips his fingers inside my diaper.
“Uh oh. When did that happen?” he asked rhetorically, taking my pacifier out. “Come on let’s get you changed.”
I shake my head. “No Daddy it can wait.”
“We don’t want you getting another rash do we?” Daddy asks as he reaches for the diaper bag at his feet. The diaper bag I had hoped he was going to leave in the car once we got to the park.
“But there’s people over there,” I whine and look in the direction of the other people at he park.
“Well the more fussy you are the more they’ll notice,” says Daddy.
“Please can you change my diaper in the car Daddy?” it was a feeble attempt mostly because I knew Daddy had already made up his mind.
“Come on baby,” Daddy guided me onto the change pad that he had laid out on the grass. He took a bottle from the diaper bag and placed it in my mouth, I instinctively grabbed it with two hand and began to drink while Daddy lifted my skirt and began undoing my diaper. It helped to focus on the bottle instead of the people.
When the clean diaper was taped up, Daddy helped me to my feet and gave me a hug, making sure to give my diapered bottom a pat as he did.
“What a good girl, does that feel better?”
“Yes Daddy. Thank you.”
“Now sit there and finish that bottle and then you can go back to playing.”
I put the bottle back in my mouth and hold it with two hands, I watch the others out of the corner of my eye. After a few minutes of drinking, I notice a few moving closer.
I whimper and scramble to my feet.
“What are you doing little one?” Daddy asks, stopping me mid panic.
“They’re coming over here Daddy,” I motion towards three people coming towards up.
“Oh it’ll be okay princess,: Daddy pulls me onto his la and lets me lay against him, my back is towards the approaching people and it helps calm me down a little. Daddy pops my pacifier in my mouth and let same bury my head in his shoulders.
“Do you want to go home baby?” Daddy asks softly and I nod my head, trying not to look around.
“Okay come on,” Daddy guides me off his lap and pats my diaper again before taking my hand and leading me across the fields. As we cross the path of the other people I look at the ground and try to hide my pacifier but Daddy stops my hand.
“it’s okay baby Daddy’s right here,” he says.
I focus on the nearing car instead of the awkward looks. Holding Daddy’s hand helps me calm down but at the same time only leads to embarrassment even more.
When we get to the car Daddy opens the back door and buckles me in and replaces my pacifier with my bottle once again.
“You still need to finish all of this baby you haven’t messed your diaper in two days and this will help.”