NUKED AT 5K - the bby frmly knwn as Spaced-Goddess

Just tell her that you will be making all of the calls from now on to help set up her appointments.

I'm loving how squirmy and uncomfortably excited and ashamed your replies to other people make me, and I would love for you to reply to me and see how that gets me feeling 🥺

https://www.tumblr.com/silly-little-morgan?source=share

Hi, little Morgan. Or should I say hi, dumb diaper baby? After seeing your profile I'm sure you deserve soooo much to be bossed around like the little baby you are. You're lucky I'm here for that.

But I don't get why a toddler like you would want to feel «squirmy and uncomfortably excited», as you said. I hope you understand you shouldn't get to feel any big girl feelings again. It's a big no-no for you, squirt.

So no humping while reading this, OK honey? In fact, I forbid you from doing any big girl activity while reading my captions from now on. I want you all blushy, brain all fried, while thinking about all the adults that have ever mocked you. But no sticky surprises, OK?

Babies only make two types of messies, and you're no different, sweetie. I'm glad @elfiewhore has done such a good job degrading you for the past weeks. Sooner than you think you'll be reduced to the state of a clueless, babbling little newborn with no control whatsoever about anything around you.

And the worst part is you will love it. To regress so much that you can't form a full sentence, that you don't notice anymore if you made a pushy or a pee-pee, or even if you're nakey or not, at home or outside. Why would it matter where Mommy brings you? Everything will get so fuzzy for you. Is that her best-friend? One of my exes? Am I getting a change? Are they laughing about my messy tushy? You're too dumb to know.

So many soggy shenanigans here 💦

🧸 Giving a good morning kiss to your "girlfriend" when you wake up, having cuddled with her all night before

🧸 Making sure to say goodby and love you when you leave, telling them exactly where you're going to be.

🧸 Bragging about how cute and attentive they are, politely saying that you're "taken" whenever a grown-up tries to flirt with you

🧸Introducing them to your "parents" (your mommy/daddy in a kink dynamic) nervously, hoping they hit it off

🧸Keeping track of your anniversary to your "true love" and never holding it against them that they never seem to remember your gift.

🧸Having to go through the motions of seduction to be allowed to hump your plushie partner

This content is intended for consenting adults aged 18 and older. All characters depicted within this material are fictional and at least 18 years of age. _

I'm done letting you fool yourself. I mean, who are we kidding? We both know you can't keep your pants dry. You wake up in soaked sheets most mornings, and now you're having your little "accidents" during the day as well. Whatever semblance of an adult life you once had, it's quickly on its way out.

Soon enough, you won't even recognize your old life. You'll just be my little baby, ready to accept your place. You'll be beneath me, just where you belong. I mean, who would respect an "adult" who can't even make it to the potty on time? That's right, I don't consider you an adult. You're nothing more than an overgrown baby who's failed at potty training and who needs to be reminded who's in charge.

That's right, kiddo. No more big kid underwear for you. In fact, I think we should throw all your undies away. Or maybe I'll even cut them up while I make you watch. You won't be needing them anymore, after all. We might as well make use of them. I can use them as rags to clean you up during diaper changes.

Yes, that's right. I'm putting you back in diapers, full time. I don't want to hear any more fussing, I won't tolerate it. Keep it up and you'll find yourself over my knee with a very red bottom. Little babies who can't stop wetting themselves need diapers, and that's just what you are, isn't it? A little baby.

Go ahead. Admit it. You want me to treat you this way. You get off on it. And the more I mock and humiliate you, the tighter my grip on you will become. Because you crave this. You need it. You need to be dominated completely—mind, body, and soul. That's what you really want, deep down.

Did you think I didn't realize it? That I couldn't tell, just from looking at you, what a pathetic baby you are? I mean, honestly, I don't know how everyone else around you doesn't see it. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you'd end up like this. I knew you'd be on your knees at my feet, begging me not to tear you down and make you even more pathetic than you already are.

But it's too late, honey. This is your life now. And there's no going back. Maybe at one point you could have undone all this, salvaged what little adulthood that was left, but I'm not letting that happen. I'm going to see that you are treated exactly as you ought to be, like a helpless little infant who can't do anything for themselves.

There will be no more big kid potty. No more "adult" activities. And don't think I'm letting you hide this from your friends. Everyone is going to know what I've reduced you to, and how much you like it. Anyone who wants to play with the baby is going to get a chance to, whether that means your friends or mine. I'm sure they'd all love to see what you've become, what you've always really been.

you giggle softly to yourself as you pull back the covers and find the super-soaked state of your boyfriends diaper.

to think, only a few months ago he was one of those “alpha males”, and now he’d be lucky to even keep his pants dry without a thick diaper taped between his legs.

it was almost too easy. with all the protein shakes and gallons of water he drank, all you needed to do was slip in a little extra something.

you remember the first time he wet the bed vividly. he’d come home from boys night absolutely wasted, gladly excepting the big glass of water and “tylenol” you handed him.

you knew better than to sleep next to the ticking piss bomb he essentially was, so you relaxed on the couch with a movie, checking in on him every so often. you got lucky, as you walked into to check on him at around 4am, you watched the wet patch spread from his expensive boxers to all over his high thread count sheets. if you snapped a few pictures, maybe even took a video, that was only for you to know.

by the fourth or fifth time he woke up in a puddle of his own piss, you finally put your foot down. either he starts wearing diapers to bed like the baby he is, or you send all those photos you have to his friends and break up with the loser. it was borderline cathartic to see this so called “alpha man” beg you in tears to not tell all his gym bro friends about his potty training troubles.

he’s been in diapers at night for almost 6 months now, and now during the day for almost a month. he stopped going to the gym after a particularly embarrassing accident, where he pissed himself trying to do his normal leg routine.

The silence is so delicious I want seconds. Maybe thirds. Delicious, beautiful silence.

She was so confident. Loudly denying she would need her diaper. That I was just being dramatic.

As if she had any control left.

It was too easy. So easy I almost feel bad that she’ll be trapped in diapers for the rest of her life. Almost.

She may whine and complain, but deep down she knows she’s a diaper girl. She knows her life is better when she’s wrapped in her thick, thirsty diapees, begging me to change her. The potty is for grown ups, not her.

And she is not a grown up. She never was, no matter how many times she says she is—or was. Grown ups don’t fill their diapers with pushies hours after screaming she could hold it.

Grown ups don’t submit so meekly to diaper checks, dutifully pulling their pants down so Daddy can inspect their diaper. And grown ups definitely don’t fill their diaper with stinkies as often as her!

“Uh oh, looks like my little peanut’s diapee is mushy! What is my precious buttercup hiding in there?”

There it is. That silence. That beautiful, tasty silence. It turns my legs to jelly. It’s unfathomably cute.

The only thing that would make it better would be getting to see the utter defeat on her face. The humiliation. The shame. To see her realize she truly is the diaper girl I molded her into.

But I’ll settle for watching her squirm on the changing table. She’s always so cute when I unwrap the present she left for me in her diaper, as the smell dominates the room, proof of who she is.