#allycaptions

As Allison was focused on *GraBBy-ChEwYfiSH* her body focused elsewhere. Partially aware of *something* as she chewed her "bearBear", her jittery bouncing softened as her legs realized something she couldn't.

Before she even knew it, *something* had happened. Suddenly wide-eyed and red-faced, Ally shockedly blinked as she emerged from her lost world. Riled from some seeming effort, Ally shifted nervously, immediately noticing her dramatically heavier diaper.

"NooO😦OoO😶OooO😫OoooO...😭😭...OooO😖oOouuu😖UuUug...", jibbered the upset girl. Squirming as her simmering tantrum unfolded, she winced with every bounce, unpleasantly whining as the reality of her diaper settled in.

The quickly escalating situation cut through the quiet house, drawing knowing sighs from Mommy and Daddy as both exaggeratedly mouthed "Your Turn" to the other.

As They opened the nursery door Allison briefly paused her crying, tearing as she lay upside down watching the door open. Recognizing a *bAd* tantrum, They made sure to make baby Ally's *🐷🐈favorite🐒aMinAL🐕🦆* noises as They walked in, drawing a quickly silenced giggle as the little🖐️*grAbbiEd*🖐️ anxiously.

It was impossible not to smile at the squirming, desperate mess of a girl. Upside down and feet in hands, Allison looked up longingly as her CG stepped to the edge of her crib, gurgling a drawn out, hopeful "gOoooOooommmB" to greet Them.

"Yes Honey: goomb", agreed the CareGiver.

Reaching down to rub the upset baby's tummy, They chortled soothingly, "Oh My Goodness! Look at how full that diapey is: 🤭Pee-EW🤭! You poor little thing! Let's get you bathed and changed right now, OK sweetie?"

They gently picked the slowly calming little up, standing her on her colorful nursery mats. Confused, Ally looked up at her CG with grabby arms, issuing a worried "MmMMm!" as she did.

"☝️No-no☝️little Ally, let's do some walkie practice while we're up, OK?", the CG brightly baby-talked. "Can you try some walkies for me, baby girl?"

"I'm going to stand by the bathroom door, do walkies to me little monkey! Such a good girl..." trailed the CG as she walked the short distance down the hallway.

Alone and upright, Allison absently waddled backwards, thumb in mouth. Happening to stop in front of her nursery mirror, the regressed 30-year-old couldn't help but stare at the sight of herself....

Something didn't seem right about her reflection: she could feel it. As her eyes tracked to her *full* diapey Allison felt another tantrum beginning, tears already dropping as she focused on her massive accident. Despite the emotional intensity of Ally's response, her "lost little noodle brains" struggled to understand this new frustration. Somehow, she felt almost as if she didn't belong in diapers, like she was somehow *bigger*...

In fact, Allison's new parents had recenty adopted her from the local Regression Clinic, where they had been given explicit instructions to keep the "hopeless rebel" on a full regiment of regression drugs. But, despite the Clinic's warnings of relapse, Ally's parents were optimistic they could keep their "Little Lamby Girl" without the intense dosages, even recently cutting back on her medication and closely monitoring the girl for any adult-ish behavior.

"Oh AllllllllllyyyY....", echoed her loving CG from the bathroom door. "Where's my sweet little stinky baby gone? There'll be no bubbles left if you keep doddling...Hurry scurry little girl!"

The word "bubbles" snapped Allison out of her foggy-minded tears. Bath bubbles were her favorite, and she knew They wouldn't let her have any if she didn't hurry. Allison, forgetting about "walkie practice", dropped to her knees and started crawling, lost in her strange, distant sense of adulthood.

Awww.....thank you so much!!!😊🐣i had a *LOT* of fun writing&shooting them; i was super immersed.🐣😊

It's actually been a really long time since i've been lost in imagination like that (🙈for whatever reasons🙈)...i could really use some inspiration, actuallyActually! if you (👋or anyone else reading this👋) have any ideas of👶babybaby👶things you'd like to see me do please send me a message or an ask.🙂

Stomach suddenly twinging, Ally froze as she held against a sudden emergency, relaxing as the spasm eventually subsided. Glancing at the 😡red-frowny faces😡covering her potty chart, Allison knew she shouldn't ignore *that* feeling...but it had been a long school day of "um🤔FingeY-PaiNTinG!!🤩!"&"1☝️2✌️3☝️✌️cOUntiNGs😇", so Allison instead stretched in bed, waiting excitedly for the next cartoon to start.

Within moments of the opening sing-along-song Allison's stomach roiled her bowels. Wide-eyed, Ally realized her terrible mistake as she scrambled to take her school leggings off; leggings at her kneels, the desperate girl scrambled to crawl to her "Princess Potty" as the inevitable happened.

Despite holding her hardest, Ally felt a noticeable lump in her daytime-diaper. Shifting in her crinkling, ruined pants the tearing 29-year old remembered what Mommy&Daddy had threatened her with. Red-faced, Allison consigned that perhaps they wouldn't notice, nervously settling back into her cartoons.

Stepping into the nursery, Allison's Mommy could not avoid smelling what Allison had done. Pulling back Ally's diaper, Mommy chided the whimpering girl for soiling her 4th pair this week. After finishing the inspection and lecture, the disappointed Mommy grabbed her little's hand as she sternly reminded Allison, "This means *baby* diapers."

Soon after, *the baby* lay on her changing table in a fresh diaper, tears forgotten, eagerly🖐️*grabby-hands*🖐️ for a🥺🔥*wArM* onesie🔥🥺. Giggling and spiddling as Mommy slipped it over her head, Ally crinkled jubilantly as Mommy snapped her up.

Guiding the gurgling girl's feet into her jammies proved difficult. "Oh my, such a squirmy girl tonight...that's too bad, I suppose I'll have to give that WARM, Vanilla BaBa to some other, less wormy baby...", teased Mommy, drawing an exasperated stare from a now stationary Allison. Drawing her legs into the dotted pajamas, Mommy continued to coo over the girl.

Lost in the prospect of a "a'nilla BaBa" , Ally hardly noticed as she wet her new diaper. Mommy noticed though, quickly unsnapping the lost girl's onesie to confirm how regressed she really was, and concretely adding, "*Tsk, tsk*...PeePees already? Allison, we're done with those Pull-Ups: you're not even trying. Maybe we can try again sometime soon but...I think you need to wear baby diapers for a while, OK sweetie?"

Baby Allison’s Diary is a NSFW, strictly 18+ blog: no exceptions or underage supporters. Please unfollow, don’t interact with my posts, and leave this page if you are a minor or a supporter of minors in kinks: you do not have my consent to engage with me or my media in any way, shape, or form.

*Please see the Trigger Warning section in this blog's subtitle (at the bottom) for some non-exclusively expounded details about the conditions of this blog*

I am Asexual and legally mentally crippled: nothing on this blog should be regarded as obscene or sexual in any way. Everything, without further qualification, should be considered a medically relevant manifestation of my cPTSD; accordingly, anyone (including officers and lawyers of the Bar) using, or categorizing, this blog for sexual purposes, or deeming it obscene, does so explicitly against my permission and, given this explicit statement, is knowingly commiting slander that they will be held accountable for.

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Thanks!🙂🙂

Pt. 2

Allison was too tired for "Walkie Lessons".

"😖Dumb😖👩mommies👩😵stupid😵🥵Walkies🥵😖dumb😖👋wanna👋🥰crawlies🥰🥳fun🥳.😵Stupid😵😖dumb😖👩mommies👩," she managed to force through her furrowed brow. Overwhelmed, Allison lost concentration and her uncoordinated legs gave way.

"Ooops! Down we go!" cooed "mommy".

As her legs buckled and she fell, Allison felt an immediate immensity in her stomach. As she caught her fall in a crouch position, all she could manage was a hurried, "Uhh Oh!" before a thick mush ballooned her already drooping night diaper. Before she could catch her breath, her bladder released a torrent and oversoaked her diaper. "Mommy" was quick to notice leaks forming down Allison's leggings and pooling on the porch underneath. Afterall, it wasn't her first morning on "Allison duty".

"Oh Honey...Is that what I think it is? Did you just...??...Don't you shake that head at me☝️, mommy saw the whole thing. I thought we were gonna practice holding our potties on the porch to earn our trainers back? Well, I guess not... Aw, Poor sweetheart. You remember what that means, right?"

Distracted by everything happening in her diaper, Allison heard nothing "mommy" said, instead drooling vacantly as her body commandeered her mind. Legs quivering from effort, the unwilling stalks finally gave up her crouched position and crashed her filled bottom onto the puddled porch. Tears filled Allison's eyes as she realized what *another* "UHOH askident" meant, "Mommies" had given her enough spankings to remember at least *this* lesson. As she began to choke up, she sobbingly whimpered what she knew would happen next:

Allison knew she was in trouble the instant she walked in the front door; before she could even cross the threshold, or even see her brooding babysitter waiting in the front hall, the piercing tirade hit her.

“ALLISON ELIZABETH SONG! YOU WERE GROUNDED, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?? I SAID STRAIGHT HOME FROM DAYCARE. STRAIGHT HOME! NO EXCUSES, REMEMBER? FIRST YOU THROW A FIT OVER CLEANING YOUR ROOM, AND NOW YOU’RE *AN HOUR* LATE FROM SCHOOL?! OK…YEP, I THINK WE NEED SOME CORNER TIME. LET’S GO!”

Shocked, Allison could only stare as her jaw slowly slacked and eyes started to water. It wasn’t her fault! There was a puppy she just *HADDA* pet: it was soooo alone! And there were flowers she just *HADDA* smell: they were so close! And she just *HADDA* play one last game of tag: everyone else was playing! Allison felt trapped, she felt confused: what else could she have done!? Ashamed and tear-eyed, she let her babysitter’s hand guide her through the house as she mumbled excuses about puppies, and flowers, and tag…

“…mmhm…ok…Allison, SHH! I said no whining. Your Mommy and Daddy said you needed to listen to me while they were gone, and I said you were grounded. And being grounded means you DON’T get to have fun: that’s what being grounded means. You need to learn to listen, Allison, so you’re going to stand in the naughty corner and think about what you did for a FULL hour.”

As the babysitter’s hand left hers, Allison turned from the confines of the naughty corner to face her au pair, whining desperately, hoping for any reprieve from her sentence. Vision blurred from sobbing, Allison watched the au pair move towards the nursery stereo, immediately pausing her tantrum.

The hypnotic nursery music, layered with powerful subliminal regression tracks, had proven extremely effective on Allison: within 6 months of nightly treatment the tracks had transformed her from an aggressively rebellious partier to a well-adjusted student at the local adult daycare. Even her thick daytime diapers no longer seemed to bother her. Timeout still bothered her though, and now Allison was extremely bothered. More than that, watching the babysitter insert the “Potty Tape” into the Kitty shaped speakers, Allison was worried. She knew what THAT tape did, and she knew how LONG an hour was, and, worse, she knew it wasn’t changies until AFTER naptime. Resigned, Allison stared at her au pair as the sickly sweet ambiance began to sound, fidgiting as the babysitter turned to leave the room.

Things had changed for Allison since her first trip to daycare: diapered daily since her fateful lunchtime accident, her mind had started to wander in the following months. Days and weeks blended, diaper bins filled and emptied; drowned in pastel, surrounded by infantile cartoons and baby safe toys, constantly monitored and doted over, Allison, trapped and bored and lost, slowly began to rely on her confines.

First came her attachment to her stuffed "aminals": within a month pouting if "Mr. Fuzzy Bear" couldn't come to preschool. Shortly thereafter her diapers began leaking unless she was constantly checked. Within 3 months Allison was enamored with Barney cartoons, excitedly dancing and singing Barney songs throughout the school day: the school teachers quickly learned that "All-gown-up Ally", typically resentful of diaper changes and anything childish, could be easily subdued with a Barney doll and sing-a-long *hypnosis* tape.

By the 5th month Allison found everything difficult: toys no longer made sense, words seemed impossible to sound out; even talking and walking were starting to challenge her. In fact, the only object in her universe that seemed easier to use were her "diapies". Diapies just made sense: how could Allison figure the block puzzles AND the big potty? Or get through a WHOLE Clifford book? Diapers were a better choice. The only choice, actually.

Now, 6 months after starting daycare, and deep in Morning Nursery Time, Allison drooled on her square blocks, crouching in concentration as she stared at another doomed, uncoordinated pile of the childish toys. Unaware of her *hEaViLy* soiled diaper, Allison turned away from another *perfect* tower under collapse, huffing and turning red. Furiously trantruming, Allison slammed her bottom down, the shocking mess squishing throughout her waist. Unable to contain her anger, her disgust, and herself, Allison wailed incoherently, frustratedly bouncing on her caked cheeks as she screamed for yet another change.

Allison's first day in Regression Reform School was beyond humiliating: to start, the childish uniform was embarrassing, the chaperoned walk across town was ridiculous, and the pullups were *completely* unnecessary. As her hand was held through yet another crosswalk, Allison couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing. Couldn't, that is, until she arrived at the School and met her "peers": waddling from toy to toy, from playpen to playpen, thick diapers buldging from every skirt and pair of shorts, the crowd of drooling, babbling adults were *happily* immersed in their infantile behavior, seemingly unaware of anything beyond their toys and bottles. The mere sight of them, now her equals, caused Allison's face to burn with shame. Worried and confused she retreated into a repressed haze, trying her best to ignore the blaring nursery music and childish ruckus surrounding her.

Allison kept a calm posture throughout the day, ignoring "story time", and "sing along time", and any of the other baby activities. She was 28, and she was sure she would act it. About an hour after snack time, watching a seemingly mature episode of "Sponge Bob", Allison felt her stomach gurgle and clench with sudden urgency. She glanced at the VERY public training potties against the nursery wall, thought of Rule 3 (ALWAYS ask a teacher to use the potty) and, stomach churning, realized that she could not, she would not, ask a similarly aged adult something so immature and public. Sure, following Rule 3 was better than breaking Rule 4 (#1 Accidents mean diapers for the day, #2 Accidents mean diapers FOR THE YEAR. NO EXCEPTIONS), but Allison was determined to save her dignity and wait until home; and so, fatefully, she pushed her hands into her lap and focused back on the TV.

An episode later, laying back in a pastel beanbag chair and completely immersed in the cartoon, Allison was alarmed by a sudden spasm. Powerful, the spasm roiled her stomach as a dangerously wet shart escaped into her pullup. Quickly realizing what was happening, Allison swiftly rolled out of the beanbag, jostling her foaming stomach and inadvertantly releasing another, larger, wave of mush into her trainers.

"No, no, no, *no*, *NO*", she cried loudly, upside down as she struggled with her tights, her bowels continuing to spudder as she thrashed. The spectacle drew the entire classroom's attention, even drawing one of the overbearing teachers to Allison's plight.