The Little’s Nest

The top grabbing the bottom by the hair and forcing her to look her little girl in the eyes while she's stretched around a massive strap.

The bottom trying desperately to sooth the little when the sight of her getting railed has her feeling fussy about the front of her diaper.

In a household with two adults, it isn't practical that the caregiver is going to do 100% of the chores while the diapered dummy just rolls around peeing themselves all day.

But the solution doesn't have to be an ON/OFF switch where your partner fully leaves their humiliating, imposed childhood in order to handle a few responsibilities. You just need to make changes at home to accomodate someone who's always crawling, drooling, and filling their pamps. It's important that they feel pathetic and small even when they're contributing.

🥫 A mini fridge and low cabinet stocked with all the essentials for making dinner. Get a coffee table, toaster oven, and hot plate so they can prep your meals without ever getting off their knees.

☎️ An old Sesame Street phone with a landline, along with paper and crayons. Now they can make appointments and work calls without you giving them access to their grown-up cell phone!

🛒 Get them a little plastic shopping cart with a cover so they can safely push things around (e.g. laundry, groceries) without standing up or using their muscles.

🧽 You get a proper vacuum cleaner...they get a hand vac. You get a broom...they get a feather duster. You get a mop...they get a sponge. It may take them longer to finish a room, but that's what they get for letting you turn them into a drooling toddler.

"There you go, buddy-boy, that locking wrist leash should keep you from bouncing away from me while we break in your new denim romper with a full day of errands. I'm thinking we'll hit Costco first - you know how busy it gets on the weekend - maybe we'll swing by Target afterwards if those wipes I like are out of stock again. Then lunch at Chuck E. Cheese, if you're good. The car is getting pretty dirty, so we'll stop by the self-service car wash. I might even let you work the sprayer and see what it's like to soak something other than your Huggies for once..."

"After that, we just need to swing by the UPS Store to pick up all those booster pads that arrived while we were at Grandma's last week and go to the grocery store - seeing as someone already went through all his Gerber Grain & Grow Puffs. Naturally, there'll be a diaper change at some point along the way - I would say that exactly when that'll happen is up to you, but we both know that it's way out of your control these days!

A lot of folks like to focus on, or think about, the obvious and initial humiliations of dating in diapers. The first disclosure, and of course the first time you're intimate. I've not seen many people mention the other 100 little humiliations that follow during the "break in period" of a new relationship with an incontinent partner. Your able bodied partner has to learns in a hurry what it took you years to come to terms with. It's one thing to say "I don't care that you need to wear diapers." It's a totally different thing to see it.

Watching your partner mess himself for the first time.

Watching your partner leak into his pants for the first time.

Noticing for the first time that he stuffs his diaper with a liner before he goes to bed, or wants to drink. Noticing his diaper is EVEN larger than it already was.

The reality of learning yes, he gets diaper rash, and, yes, it makes him fussy.

Learning he keeps an over sized diaper bin in his closet.

Learning he has to "air out", and seeing it.

Watching him snap on his onesie, and having him explain to you it's adaptive clothing and not fetish wear.

Learning to sleep on crinkling plastic sheets

Having to buy him baby powder and butt paste when you're grocery shopping.

Learning all of his drawers are reserved for his diapers.

Discovering what stale morning piss smells like, and realizing that's every morning from here on out.

Learning diapers are both a hassle AND embarrassing to travel with.

Learning your boyfriend has the same vibrator as you, in a different color. And having to hear him explain it's because he doesn't like to get pee on his hand every-time he masturbates .

Learning and seeing he shaves himself bare below the waist to make his diaper changes faster and cleaner.

Watching him put down a "puppy pad" before long car trips or on his home office chair.

Accepting that his room smells like a nursery, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Being peed on for the first time.

And a hundred other little humiliations. Every day.

All this is to say I have a VERY patient and accepting girlfriend, and I'm very thankful.

Comment on any you're curious about and I'm happy to expound on the experience this weekend.

But after I put you back in diapers, I chose your outfit for date night: a sexy little black dress, cute heels, an expensive bra. You did your hair and makeup perfectly, like you would have in your clubbing days. If not for the fat, disgusting diaper peeking out from under your flirty tiered skirt, you would have felt confident and desirable, just like the night we met.

But then, before our candelight dinner, I clipped the big yellow pacifier to your shoulder strap. I fastened the silicone scoop bib around your neck and applied the numbing gel to your tongue and lips.

When pacifier training your little girl,

it’s important to start small. Offer it to her at the slightest sign of discomfort or inconvenience. She may refuse at first, finding it too silly, but consistency is key. Once she begins to accept it, be sure to shower her in praise and affection as positive reinforcement for this type of behavior. There are days she may regress in her training and claim she doesn’t need it. Use these moments as learning opportunities for her by strapping her pacifier in her mouth for as long as is deemed necessary to help settle her down. As the dependency takes deeper root, keep her pacifier clipped to her top, so it’s never too far from her fussy, little reach. Soon she’ll be lost without the comfort she takes in nursing on her pacifier.

Encourage her to make her suckling obvious. The puffy cheeks and loud, greedy, wet smacks emitting from behind her pacifier shield provide her caregiver with the much needed proof that not only does baby have her pacifier securely in place where it belongs, but also that she is adequately acquiescing to her new accessory even when she’s out of sight. Sure, she’s guaranteed to have a chin that’s permanently drenched and dripping with drool, but that just means it’s time to add another accessory to her repertoire - her ✨bib✨

My boyfriend, Zach, started this blog a couple of years ago. When he told me he was doing it, I was absolutely mortified. He also didn’t let me see what he was writing on it and until a few weeks ago I hadn’t. As anyone who’s been following knows, Zach is super busy and has only kept up with this blog intermittently. 

Which, I guess, is where I come in. From now on I’ll be the one posting on here. First of all, this blog blew up more than Zach anticipated and he felt bad about not having the time to back and write more. He's talked about having me document my own humiliation on here, but it wasn't until this weekend where he actually decided to have me log in here and write.

I’m sure I’ll go into everything a lot more, but a big part of our relationship has been Zach supporting me by helping me with self discipline and holding me accountable. I have ADHD and struggle with focusing a lot. It’s how diapers were first introduced. Even though Zach’s been using them to discipline me for years, I still find the entire experience embarrassing, even though the humiliation definitely turns me on. I’m not one of those types who is attracted to “being little” (nothing against those who are) but I am definitely attracted to giving up control, even if the humiliation that comes from it makes me blush and want to hide. Probably why he decided to make me blog to the masses about it instead. 

This weekend I got in a lot of trouble and I know my punishment is far from over. Zach took away my potty privileges on Saturday night. It's been a long time since I've had to wear them all day and I forgot why diapers are such an effective deterrent for me, I can't stop squirming or get used to the wetness. He hasn't told me how long I'll have to be in diapers, only that it will depend on how well I do on this blog. But of course he wouldn't tell me what he meant by that. He thinks it’s good for me to have long-term responsibilities of things that I have to plan out and remember to do. He might still post some captions and updates, but I guess now I will be the default. He

Part of my responsibilities include taking pictures and posting regularly with good grammar and spelling, answering questions honestly, reflecting even when it's embarrassing, and growing the blog's following. I will be posting more but for now send me your questions...? Nice to meet you all.

I want to dumb down their vocabulary and trivialize their adult problems until they come home from work hardly able to contain their tears because their boss was “such a big meanie” to them today and work is too hard, they just want their blocks.

Allow them to date but only under my supervision and with my approval, selecting for them only the cruelest, most condescending partners I can find. Making them so nervous for their nights out that they’re bound to fail. And when they do, I’d want them running home to me, crying because it’s so hard trying to be big.

It would be so cute watching them try to resist it from absolutely consuming them at first. All bashful in the beginning when I ask them if they washed their hands after going to the bathroom. Then as all sense of dignity and pride is chipped away, becoming more obnoxious- making a big scene of filling their pants for me, forgetting that the bathroom was ever even an option.

Getting them so hopelessly dependent on nap time that I have to make excuses for their behavior when they get cranky because they’re overdue for theirs. I want them so helpless, they’re pawing at my shirt with wet eyes and whimpers anytime anything goes awry, taking comfort in the safety and dependability of nursing from me.

Spoiling them so rotten they can’t take no for an answer anytime they see a toy or treat their little heart desires. Nothing would make me happier than to see my little one, ego completely shattered, red in the face, kicking and screaming on the floor because I said they can’t have sweets before dinner. Letting them wear themselves out until they’re just a heaving mess of tears desperate for the familiarity of me.