Latest Posts by kinkyberen - Page 3
25 Going on 2 (NSFW 18+)
***DISCLAIMER*** THE PEOPLE DEPICTED IN THIS WORK ARE CONSENTING ADULTS OVER THE AGE OF 18. IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER CLICK AWAY NOW.
Image credit: @little-girl-xoxo
Image Link: https://little-girl-xoxo.tumblr.com/
Please do not remove my story / image credit.
The sound of crinkles preceded her arrival as she crawled into the room. The guests clapped, some letting out little “awws” and coos as they took in her infantile outfit. She kept her eyes glued to the floor and tried to hide behind her husband, turned Daddy. He had dressed her special for the day, slipping his little one into her “most favoritest” onesie, complemented with a pair of locking mittens.. A northshore megamax stacked atop a molicare and two stuffers swaddled her lower half. A black cord with an attached bulb dangled unceremoniously behind her. The traveled up the back of her thighs, descending through the back band of her diaper. Within, it was connected to an inflatable bulb plug. The plug that currently filled her ass and was fulfilling its purpose admirably, holding back both a birthday enema and a day’s worth of natural buildup. To top it all off, her mouth was full and kept involuntarily suckling on locking pacifier gag. She whimpered slightly as her nursing released a dollop of the “big girl milk” Daddy had filled it with. He loved to fill up her paci. He loved it even more when she had to watch on in helpless, padded frustration.
He glanced down at her, eyes twinkling with amusement. “What’s the matter, princess?” He spoke loudly. “Did you have an accident?”
She whined as he tugged her around, pulling back the band of her diaper. He grinned, “nope! Still dry. Good girl. You know, if you can stay dry for the whole party you might get to wear big girl pull-ups for once.” The guests, a collection of their kink friends and their respective partners or slaves, snickered at his remark.
“Aww, that’s too bad, I think she looks adorable waddling around in those big crinkly diapers,” one called out.
Daddy turned to address them. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. This little one can’t keep her diapers dry for more than a few minutes. Even without her pee my little one tends to make other kinds of puddles when she’s diapered.”
She blushed furiously and wished it weren’t true.
“Even if that wasn’t the case though, my little stinker here has a problem controlling other parts of her body. That’s what this handy little device is for.” He grabbed the inflating bulb. “This makes it so little poof butt here doesn’t even have to try to hold it in. The plug does it for her.”
She could feel her princess parts shiver as the padding grew wet.
One of the crowed piped up. “How long have you kept her waiting?”
Daddy nudged her. She turned her flushed face to the party guests and crawled towards her toys. Her stomach gurgled angrily, and she screwed her face up in discomfort. Daddy, please. I hafta potty… She tried to beg with her eyes to no avail. A couple people noticed and chuckled while others looked on sympathetically. With no reprieve coming, she fumbled around the carpet, searching. She found what she was looking for a moment later. She gingerly held it between her mittens. It was one of her learning blocks, painted red around the edges with the number 2 at the center.
“I think she’s trying to tell us something,” someone said. “What is it, baby? Do you have to make number 2?”
Everyone laughed while she blushed beet red and shook her head.
Daddy enjoyed her reaction for a moment before responding. “No, though she probably does. My lil punkin is trying to say she’s been a very good girl for a whole two weeks! She’s been sweet, and obedient, and completely cummy free! Isn’t that right, dewdrop?”
She merely whined and tugged at his pant leg in response. The pressure was building up. Her stomach was cramping with increasing discomfort, and it was only getting worse.
He smiled down at her affectionately and patted her head. “Now, now, honey. I know you’re anxious to let out all those big girl cummies but the adults are talking right now.”
One of their friends spoke up, incredulous. “Two entire weeks? Without any touching at all?”
Daddy shook his head and chuckled. “No, no. That would just be cruel. I gave her plenty of attention, just no cummies. She’s far too little for those kinds of things.”
She shivered at the memory of that attention. Hands and legs tied down for every change. Teasing fingers rubbing and probing her. Trying to rub herself when he wasn’t watching, only to be foiled by the thickness of her diapers. The throbbing need she felt waking up next to him every morning. Smelling his musk as he used her to satisfy his own needs while leaving her leaking and whimpering in her soggy diapers. She clenched her legs together as she realized she had begun to slowly knead the front of her diaper. She gave her pacifier a guilty suck, feeling another dribble of cum coat her tongue. Daddy noticed, because of course he did, and grinned.
“I was going to wait until the end of the party to give my princess her present, but I think someone is being a little fussy. What do you all think? Should we let the birthday girl blow off some steam?”
The question was met with loud approval. Still on the floor, she glanced around apprehensively as the guests moved their seats to the edges of the room. Her stomach gave another angry growl and she groaned through her pacifier.
Daddy began to rub her back. “Shh, it’s ok, princess. You will get to let it all out soon. Just be a good girl and wait a couple more seconds for me, ok?” He cupped her chin, giving her a light peck on the forehead.
She felt a little part of herself melt and her eyes glazed over. A dumb smile appeared around the edges of the gag. Okay dada… She could wait a few more seconds if he said so.
True to his word, a moment later two of their friends came shuffling down the hall bearing what looked like an adult sized rocking horse. Daddy stood up and walked over to them, muttering some instructions she couldn’t quite make out. She watched on, interested and somewhat anxious as the pair put the horse directly on top of her changing mat. She crawled over to get a better look. Some of the guests laughed as they watched her, seeing the bulb swing obscenely beneath her oversized butt. Her heart jumped. The handles were designed with a fuzzy blue set of restraints designed to lock the riders hands to the bars. She could see a similar set on the footrests. Even scarier, there was some kind of pulley system between the legs of the horse. The pulley wires ran the length of its body to unknown locations. The whole setup was completely arcane to her and her potty/cummy deprived baby brain struggled to connect the dots. Fortunately for her, she found out a second later as Daddy lifted her onto the seat. She felt waves of cramps roll through her stomach and it growled loud enough to be heard by more than a few people.
She stiffened as she felt Daddy’s fingers lightly wrap around her neck. His breath was hot on her ear as he growled. “Time to show everyone what you are.”
She squeaked in surprise as he began to undo the buttons on her crotch snap. Her arms were pulled above her head and her onesie was entirely removed. Red heat simmered its way through her face, and she tried to cover up. She was completely (except for the diaper of course) exposed, vulnerable. Her princess parts tingled with the shame. Daddy secured her hands next, leaving her breasts on full display when he locked her feet as well. Smiling devilishly, he gave her a personal demonstration of the pulley system. The wires connected to two clamps which he promptly snapped over her nipples. The shock of the sensation in her aroused state ran through her breasts, and made her kitty gush. She was breathing heavily when he gave the horse a test rock. The clamps could apparently only extend a fixed length, and she felt her nipples pulled forward as she rocked back. The sensation was intense. Not quite painful, not quite pleasurable in the conventional sense. She began to rock on her own, ignoring the chuckles and lustful eyes on her. It was strange. It shouldn’t have been as enjoyable as it was, but she kept going. Kept feeling the tug on her straining breasts as she tried to grind against the seat.
“Uh oh, looks like someone is having an accident!”
Her eyes went wide. The plug was deflating! In her excitement and the overloading stimulus of the horse she had completely forgotten about the constant warning signals coming from her poor tummy. She turned her head. Daddy was behind her, bulb in hand with what she swore was a pair of glowing devil horns protruding from his brow. An instant later she wrapped her arms around the horses neck and held on for dear life. Completely deflated, the plug did nothing to stop the torrent. She shook her head as tears of mortifying relief pooled in her eyes. Her diaper expanded rapidly with the outpour, swelling further still as her bladder reflexively relaxed itself. The stain spread quickly, all evidence of her lack of control on clear display. She wanted to tell them to look away. She wanted to tell Daddy she needed a change. She wanted to do a lot of things at that moment, but mostly, she just wanted to cum. Even though every movement spread the mush further, she continued to rock. Her pussy ached so badly, and the soggy crotch of her diaper was rubbing against her deliciously. She knew she looked ridiculous, but she just couldn’t control herself. She was Daddy’s little potty pants fuck toy. His wanton, messy whore, grinding and squishing in her oversized diapees for everyone to see. She wanted his cock so bad then, wishing she was bent over, having her cunt filled while Daddy rode her into tomorrow. That was for big girls though, something everyone could clearly see she wasn’t. Without warning, the seat began to vibrate and she squealed in delighted surprise. Through half lidded eyes she saw daddy standing off to the side, remote in hand.
“Remember when you thought you were turning 25 this year,” he asked teasingly.
She couldn’t respond. In her pleasure addled mind the only thing she could think of was how fucking good the vibrations felt through her diaper. Ripples shot through her as she wantonly humped the seat. The sound of her own crinkling traveled through the room. Whorish moans accompanied it. She felt his hand on the small of her back and his voice was suddenly loud in her ear.
‘Are you sure you didn’t actually mean 2?’
He turned a dial and the vibrations grew even stronger. The orgasm cracked through her body like summer lightning. Her sex deprived brain turned into a bubbling soup, and she cried out through the gag. Nonsensical burbles and groans escaped her lips. She could feel her toes go numb, and her legs spasmed ineffectually against the horse. She felt her cunt pulse on a nonexistent cock and greedily sucked the last remaining drops of Daddy’s milk. The vibrator didn’t relent after the first wave passed. The sensation tearing through her grew exponentially as her over sensitized clit was drowned in waves of pleasure. She felt drool slide down her cheek and she went limp.
The vibrations stopped abruptly and she felt herself being lifted. The gag was removed and a delirious grin spread across her face. She was in Daddy’s arms. His face was etched with mild concern and he held her close.
“Are you alright, hun? Was it too much?”
Her face was as much a mess as her drooping diaper. Drool dripped freely down one cheek and her hair was wild. Her eyes were red and puffy. She shook her head limply, lifting a trembling hand to trace his face. Despite the fact that she could barely remember her name she managed to burble out, “no, Da’dee. T’ank ‘oo.”
He kissed her forehead and whisked her away, leaving their by now insanely aroused friends to their own devices. Cake and more fun could wait. He wrinkled his nose with mirth. His little one needed a bath.
THE PARK BENCH
It was a bright, sunny day, as the excited buzzing of the few families and couples filled the air of the zoo, mingling with the exotic smells of animals from every corner of the globe. Normally, I hated being strapped into my oversized stroller but this time I was at least grateful for the bit of shade the extendable cover provided. If the adult sized stroller loaded down with heavy diaper bag and every assortment of infantile paraphernalia wasn’t a dead giveaway of my condition, my pastel green t-shirt sporting smiling baby zoo animals and cargo shorts with the elastic waistband—concealing a very obvious diaper bulge—certainly was. I shrunk back as best as my restraints would allow, cringing every time a new zoo guest looked my way, but Mommy didn’t seem to pay any mind. Wearing a gorgeous yellow sundress, the one that flirted dangerously with the wind every time a light breeze blew by, mommy simply beamed and pushed me along from exhibit to exhibit all the while, asking me if I liked the “horsies” or the “pumba’s.” It’s not as if I could actually respond though, what with the suffocating pacifier gag stuffing my mouth. Today’s was a special gag, as it held a secret reservoir between the teat and the button, filled with god only knows what mommy had put in there this time. All I could do was grunt my approval, and point to any new exhibit I wanted her to wheel me towards.
When we got to the elephant enclosure towards the end of the park, I felt the stroller come to a halt and heard mommy come around and into view. She bent down towards me, giving me an enticing view of her cleavage, pushed together in the sundress.
“Does baby want to see the elephants? They’re just like your stuffy at home! Only very very big.
I rolled my eyes but I was at least thankful to get out of the chair and stretch my legs. As she got to work undoing the restraints holding in my wrists, ankles, and the big buckle pushing against my crotch, a sudden gust blew past, flipping her sundress up, exposing her no doubt delicate lace panties and gorgeously heart-shaped ass to a lucky couple passing by. The guy blushed and quickly looked away and I stewed in envy of him for even that little glimpse. Suddenly I felt my lower half begin to stir and grow just from my own imagination and grimaced in pain as the cage mommy had put me in during my morning change went to work, clamping down on my poor encased cock.
After a short moment I was finally free and allowed to waddle up to the railing to look down into the massive elephant enclosure. For a brief moment I forgot that I must look like an overgrown toddler any onlooker and just enjoyed, ironically, feeling like a kid at the zoo. But as I got up on my tiptoes to lean over the railing for a better look, I got a sudden reminder that snapped me out of my reverie, as I felt mommy’s hand firmly cup the seat of my shorts, giving my diaper a big squeeze, pressing the wet padding up tightly against my skin.
“Pee-yew! Someone’s stinky! Is that the elephants or you?” She then pulled back the stretchy elastic waistband of my shorts and diaper to get a good look down my backside. I felt the cool air on my behind and wilted in the sheer humiliation of the moment but felt confident in the knowledge that I was not the odorous offender… right? I mean, I would’ve felt it… right? My control had been waning of late and now even I wasn’t so sure. I cringed in anticipation.
“Nope, all clean! That’s a good boy.” I breathed a huge sigh of relief around my pacifier gag, only to inhale sharply once I felt her prodding hand move down to the leg of my shorts, where her finger could easily slip through the elastic leg gathers of my diaper for a closer feel.
“But you are soaked. Best to change you now anyway.” Oh no! Please no. I balked in horror. I quickly looked around hoping to see a family restroom in the immediate area but there was nothing in sight. Nothing but a green park bench a few feet back. I tried to voice my muffled protest but it was too late. Before I could react, mommy was pulling me by the wrist over to the bench, stroller in tow. I stumbled to keep up, the stupid fat diaper forcing my legs apart and turning my normal gait into a bow-legged waddle.
On the bench, mommy laid down my Sesame Street blankie and gently guided me on top. I felt my diaper give a big squish as I sat. She pushed me by the chest until I was flat on my back. Wishing to get this over as soon as possible, I covered my eyes and lifted my hips as she slowly unbuttoned and slid my shorts down and off my legs. Next I heard her heave out the diaper bag and rifle around for essentials. I opened my eyes again when I heard a young woman’s giggle. I quickly glanced up just as a young couple passed by clearly on a date, the woman obviously whispering and laughing to her boyfriend about the big baby she just saw. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.
It was business as usual for mommy, though, as she quickly got to undoing the front tapes of my diaper and peeling back the wet front panel to expose my smooth, hairless crotch to the cold breeze. I shivered and sucked delicately on my paci, careful not to pull too hard and activate mommy’s secret weapon.
Quick as a flash mommy had my ankles together in one hand, pushing them high into the air as she wiped down my bottom with the other, blissfully whistling the “sunny day, chasing the clouds away” refrain from the Sesame Street theme. I felt her run the cold wipe up and down my crack and gave an exasperated wince as I felt the usual wipe covered finger plunge deep into my most private region, exploring each crevice in the name of cleanliness. As soon as my cavity was clear I quickly felt another finger deep inside, no doubt inserting a suppository to keep me regular. Just as I was getting over this current indignation, let alone the humiliation of my naked backside exposed for all the world to see over an open, and clearly soaked diaper, a man rounded the corner.
While normally the thought of any man seeing me in such a compromised and emasculated position would be a nightmare, this particular man presented a new an unexpected sensation: hope. It was a police officer! Finally, someone I could cry out to, someone to whom I could beg for help. Please, officer, she’s keeping me like this against my will! But mommy was quicker. She always is. Without breaking her practiced diaper changing stride, my legs still hoisted aloft, she reached for my face and pressed the button of my pacifier, releasing a sudden spurt of castor oil into my mouth. No longer thinking of freedom, I squinted my eyes shut and swallowed with all my might, tears bursting to the surface as I choked down the foul liquid.
“Aw, now who’s this little fellow?” I heard the man say as I grunted and swallowed, hoping to fight my way through the bitter, oily taste. Mommy told the officer that I was just her little Baby Beluga but as for myself I was enduring sensory overload and couldn’t respond.
“He’s just a little fussy right now, normally he’s so polite! Here baby, you must be gunked up. Blow!” She held a tissue to my nose and forced me to blow my nose into it, just like a real baby. The officer just laughed and moved on with his day, and any hope of freedom sauntered off with him. Mommy then got to pulling the open wet diaper out from underneath me and rolling it into a ball before producing a fresh new diaper from her bag. Just as she was unfolding the new diaper out beneath me, I heard another voice that stole my attention.
“Oh, how cute, what’s his name?” Said a young woman in her early-20s. From her short plaid skirt and college sweater, it was clear she was here as some sort of assignment for school.
“Oh this is just my little Baby Beluga! He wanted to see all the ‘aminals’ today so I took him out for some fun mommy-baby time. Normally he’s not this shy but he always gets fussy during changes.” I blushed deeply at that but that paled in comparison to the humiliation I felt as mommy began to lower my legs onto the waiting padding, revealing my shame to the world, caged in baby blue plastic, resting limply at the base of my bare crotch.
“He’s adorable” the girl cooed while mommy dusted me with powder. “If you ever need a babysitter, I’m working on my graduate degree at the university in town and am always looking to earn a little on the side! And from the looks of it, you’ve got a well behaved sweetheart on your hands.” She leaned in and gave me a little pinch on the cheek just as mommy pulled the front of the diaper up into place and I felt my cock stir again only to press futilely against the wall of its cage. The events of the afternoon combined with the sudden reminder of my emasculated state in front of these two beautiful women talking about me like I wasn’t even there this time evoked real tears as I soon found myself experiencing an honest to goodness tantrum. Mommy simply pressed the button on my pacifier once more and my wailing only increased as I fought to swallow the mouthful of terrible liquid.
“That’s so sweet of you! As you can see he can be quite a handful and I can use all the help I can get. Give me your number and I’ll give you a call sometime!” And just like that the woman was walking back to her group and mommy was sticking the last of the tapes into place and pulling my cargo shorts back up over my fat diaper, telling me all about the otters and polar bears we were about to meet.
“Worthless”
I do not like the concept of someone being “worthless” in the context of BDSM, it’s not something I have ever said to a sub and it’s not something I enjoy seeing. I’ll preface all of this by saying that I can understand hypothetically why that term could be appealing to people in a humiliation context, but it’s just not for me.
If you have ever so much as glanced at my blog, or even read the title, it shouldn’t be hard to see that I am very interested in humiliation. Some of my absolute favorite things to do in a D/s context are to piss on a sub and make her make out with my ass. In that context I may call a sub my urinal or ass licker, and it might be all I call her that whole day.
So you might ask if you are willing to piss on someone and call her a urinal, then why not worthless? Two reasons:
1) Whether you are dripping in piss or you have your head shoved up my ass, that doesn’t make you less of a person. I may make her do degrading things, but I never think less of her as a person because she is doing something I want her to do, if anything those are moments where I praise her, for doing things that are difficult to endure, because they please me. That’s absolutely worthwhile.
2) I think that any good humiliation has to be rooted in some level of truth. If I call someone a urinal for example, there’s truth to that title. It might be degrading to hear for her, but that’s because she knows there is truth to that and so do I when I say it. If I were to say someone was worthless, I wouldn’t believe that and wouldn’t want her to believe it either, which is not effective in creating the mindset I want.
I get on average 4-5 messages a month from random people on here where in their first message they describe themselves as worthless. I understand that they usually think they are demonstrating that they are interested in humiliation, but it’s not appealing to me. Quite the opposite, when I first get to know you I want to know all of the things that make you worthwhile, your skills, your talents, along with your faults and flaws, but when the first thing you tell me is that you are worthless, it makes me wonder than why I should take my time to respond to you. When I look for someone, I want someone who is going to add to my life, enrich it in various ways that I might choose and that I can do the same for her.
So while I fully support others using those types of phrases in their humiliation play and can understand the appeal, it’s not something for me. I don’t think people are worthless, I certainly don’t think being a submissive negatively affects your worth as a person and if I did think you were worthless I certainly wouldn’t have interest in speaking to that person let alone considering them as a partner and/or submissive.
Fresh from the archive and up over on Wordpress!
Part Two
Go to Part One
This one's a classic – free from the archive at last, and publicly available on Wordpress!
The next series of captions I wrote! All about a new mysterious virus infecting young adults across the world. Got inspired by an actual flu epidemic that took place on my college campus. Art credit goes to Rocket Manatee
I don’t need a bimbo. I don’t want a whore or a slut. I want a slave. Property, A pet. One that knows it is inferior to all Men but wishes to serve one Man above all else… to obey and cherish the Man that’s given it its new life. Humiliation, both public and private must make it’s little cunt throb. it wishes to leave its old life as a responsible female behind entirely. it no longer wants to make decisions but instead hopes to find a Man that will make every decision, large and small for it. it’s never told anyone about its desires….its true self but yearns to finally share itself….its thoughts, its wants and opinions with a Man, even though it knows they pale in comparison to His own. it wants to be little more than a set of tits and three warm wet holes for the right Man…a slave to whatever whims He dreams up for it…. In that environment, it truly will find a home.
The Start of It All
I sat on the floor of my Mommy’s room, legs splayed with a coloring book and some crayons on the floor. Mommy was in the bathroom, standing at her sink and inspecting her reflection in the mirror as she was getting ready for her date.
This was the first time she was going out, leaving me at home under the care of a mutual friend. When we first started dating, Mommy and I would sleep in her big bed together and go out on dates all the time. But since she started putting me in diapers a few months, I had been relegated to the guest room.
It had started as something she suggested when the stress from my work started to catch up with me at night. I always struggled to keep my bed dry growing up, and by the time my parents were tired of buying their teenage daughter diapers, I only had accidents when I was feeling really fried.
When I started wetting the bed a few months ago, Mommy suggested that I wear diapers to bed. I was completely against the idea, not wanting to return to the place of self-consciousness and embarrassment at having to wear protection to bed. I tried to argue, but Mommy wasn’t having any of it.
“Pleeeeeaase?” I begged, my voice slipping into more of a whine than I wanted while trying to prove my adulthood.
“Tell you what, girlie. Starting tomorrow, if you wake up in a wet bed more than twice, I’m putting you in diapers.” Mommy stated calmly, rubbing my thigh to soothe me. I felt my cheeks flush. I knew I would likely fail.
By Tuesday, Mommy came home from work with a pack of diapers under her arm. She hadn’t even taken off her coat or put down her things before I was voicing my displeasure.
“Noooo I don’t need those,” I whined as I followed her around the house. She didn’t acknowledge me, and instead went to the guest room and placed the diapers on the bed. I was on her heels and gave her a questioning look once we were in the room.
“I got a plastic sheet for this bed,” Mommy explained, noting the look of confusion on my face. “I don’t want you ruining my nice mattress, and as a matter of fact, I think your behavior these past few weeks has be convinced this will be for the best.”
“I can’t help it! I just sometime have accidents at night when I feel stressed!” I pleaded, not entirely sure what all of “this” entailed.
“Sweetie, even when you do keep your bed dry, you act like a toddler most the time. I’ve been thinking about this for a while; your recent nighttime troubles just convinced me this is what you need,” she told me. Her voice was sweet and syrupy, bringing more blood to my face as she led me by the shoulder to the bed.
“I don’t! I’m an adult and I just am having a rough week!” I protested, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. I tried to struggle against Mommy’s hold on my shoulder, but she tightened her grip when she felt my resistance.
“Sweetheart, when we are sitting down to dinner and trying to find something on to watch, if I let you pick, where do you always look?” she asked, using both hands to sit me down on the bed.
“Uhm, I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to answer. “You go to Disney+. And, if I’m picking and choose something more grown-up, you get so fussy and complain about how boring it is,” she said as she pushed me back into a lying position on the bed. “If we are having a big dinner that needs cutting up, do you cut it up yourself or ask me to help you?”
I didn’t answer her, choosing to turn my head to the wall and stare it. My thoughts were racing around in my head. I knew that Mommy liked it when I played a little bratty, and it sounds like maybe I played too far into that. I wasn’t a baby though!
As I turned my head and opened my mouth to say such, a pacifier was slipped past my lips. Without thinking, my mouth started to work the nipple and I felt my heart rate slow a little.
“See, sweetie? This is for the best,” she said as she moved to undo my jeans. “I know it’s not bedtime yet, though yours will be much earlier than it used to. I think we should start you in diapers at home all the time. I’ve seen your undies when I do our laundry, and you have little pee-pee accidents in them all the time, don’t you?” she asked, tickling my tummy.
“I don’t wet my pants! Those are just tiny little spots,” I pouted behind my pacifier.
“Anyone who ruins their undies like you do deserves to be in diapers,” she said with a certain finality that I knew I’d have to revisit this in a few days if I wanted to change her mind. Her hands were poised at the top of my jeans, getting ready to unbutton them and take them off. I missed when she opened the package, but a thick, folded diaper lay next to me on the bed, some wipes and powder next to it.
“Please don’t,” I whined through my pacifier, but she ignored me as she pulled my pants down and started getting me into my first diaper in years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More to come on this! I have lots of ideas for where I want it to go! [18+ only; minors dni]
Such a naughty little baby, now you can pout all you want as you fill your diaper in bed
Another one fresh from the archive and released on Wordpress. Enjoy, ya little sissies! ;-)
Mummy's Girl - Part 1
Kimmy might be a twenty-two year-old-woman, but her potty skills have never been up to the level of her peers. Living firmly under the thumb of her controlling, condescending mother, she desperately wants to live an ordinary life of a girl her age, to make friends and go on dates and, above all, to say goodbye to dirty diapers for good. Unfortunately, her Mama has other ideas...
***
Kimmy hurried up to the front door as quickly and quietly as she could, praying her mother was preoccupied with something and wouldn’t notice her sneaking into the house so late – it was almost eight thirty in the evening, which meant it was past her bedtime. She tottered a little unsteadily up the drive, thanks in part to the half a dozen or so shots of vodka she’d had with her college friends at the bar after lectures. But there was another thing making her walk a little strangely; a thick pair of oversized Huggies pull-ups were pushing her thighs apart, and one of her hands was pressed urgently against her crotch as she fought desperately not to wet herself.
If it wasn’t for her babyish training pants and the childish clothes she was dressed in (a pale pink frock that could just barely pass for something a grown woman might wear), Kimmy would have looked the part of the archetypal blonde bombshell. As it was, her long golden hair looked more cute than sexy in braided pigtails, and her generous chest was hidden, crammed inside her tight blouse. Her bright blue eyes, plump lips, and perfect complexion were model-like, but at present her features were scrunched up with the effort of holding her aching bladder.
Nevertheless, there was no doubt that Kimmy was a beautiful, fully-grown woman. Although the toddler’s pull-ups she wore instead of adult underwear didn’t make her feel that way, she was actually two or three years older than most of her peers at university. It was her mother’s doing, of course. Mrs Jones had decided on three separate occasions that her daughter ‘simply wasn’t mature enough’ to move on to the next school year, and had insisted she be held back – once in kindergarten, then twice over the course of primary school, making her much older than her classmates. But she’d been the only one still toddling off to the nurse’s office at breaktime for diaper changes. At least she’d kicked her pants-pooping habit by the time she’d moved on to secondary school, even if she did still have to contend with wet training pants on a regular basis.
Now, though, the age difference wasn’t nearly as important as it had been, and even her pee-pee issues had almost completely dried up. At long last, Kimmy was free in a way she’d never been before, free from the humiliation of being a grown woman who still went to the bathroom in her own pants. She only wished she could be free from her mother’s constant coddling as well. She’d been worried her mum wouldn’t allow her to go to college at all, but with enough badgering, she’d eventually relented – on the condition that Kimmy choose a local university, and live at home rather than at a dorm. Unfortunately, that meant dealing with the same rules she’d had since the age of six.
“What time do you call this, Kimmy?!” her mother thundered the moment Kimmy entered the house. “It’s past your bedtime, little girl! Where have you been?!”
Kimmy let out a whimper and felt the familiar sensation of her bladder letting go in her pants. Warm pee flooded into her pull-ups at once, accompanied by a faint hissing sound. It had been a feeble hope, but there was a small chance she could have slipped in without her mother noticing if she’d been taking a bath or something. But she ought to have known better; her mum had never once failed to catch her breaking a rule in all her life.
Apart from being a little plumper, Mrs Jones looked exactly like an aged-up version of her daughter; the same golden blonde hair, only tied up in a tight knot behind her head rather than arranged in childish pigtails, the same large breasts, though in her case her assets were proudly on display in a tastefully tempting, low-cut top, and the same crystal blue eyes and full lips, perhaps a little less pouty than her daughter’s, but painted a deep, sensuous red. The most dramatic difference between them were their expressions, however. While Kimmy looked shy and sweet, her mother gave off an impression of severity and self-confidence.
“I was just out with my friends, Mama…” Kimmy said meekly, pulling a face at the icky feeling of the heavy, pee-soaked pull-ups squishing against her skin.
Her mother sniffed the air suspiciously and her eyes flashed. “Have you been drinking, young lady?!”
“I’m twenty-two, Mama!” Kimmy whined petulantly, looking down at her feet. “I’m allowed to drink!”
“As long as you’re under my roof, that decision is up to me, Kimmy! You know your bladder can’t cope when you…” She paused, sniffing the air again. “Oh, Kimmy…” she said in a disappointed, threatening tone. “You didn’t…”
Kimmy’s bottom lip trembled and tears welled up in her eyes as her mother reached out and lifted up the hem of her frock, exposing the faded wetness indicators on the front of her sagging pull-ups.
“Soaked!” her mother announced, as she inspected the discoloured training pants between her daughter’s legs. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t be drinking, Kimmy! I told you this would happen! Mama is very cross with you, little lady! I’ve been trying my hardest to finally get you potty trained, and you insist on going out of your way to make it as difficult as possible! Maybe you’re not mature enough for college after all…”
“No!” Kimmy squealed, eyes widening in fear. “Please, Mama! It was just an accident!”
“Two-year-olds have accidents, Kimmy, not twenty-two-year-olds. Perhaps daycare will suit you better than university…”
“I’ll be good!” Kimmy said desperately. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Mama! Don’t make me drop out! I can be a big girl, I promise! I even have a date tomorrow with a guy from my class!”
Her mother said nothing for a few seconds. Then she sighed. “Alright, Kimmy. But you still need to be disciplined. Are you going to be a good girl and accept your punishment?”
“Yes, Mama!” Kimmy said at once, even though her stomach was twisting uncomfortably at the thought of what her mother likely had in mind.
“Then come me with, baby.” She took her daughter’s hand and led her to her bedroom. Kimmy’s heart sank as she watched her approach the closet, open the doors, and bend down to reach what Kimmy knew was sitting at the bottom. A moment later she straightened up, holding in her hand one of the enormous, custom-ordered Pampers that she used for her go-to punishment – diaper discipline.
“Mama, please…” Kimmy whispered, her bright eyes fixed on the huge nappy.
“Three days in diapers, Kimmy,” her mother said briskly, walking over to the large changing table that still sat in the middle of the bedroom and patting the surface. “Hop up. You know the drill.”
Her feet felt like they were made of lead, but Kimmy dragged them over to the table obediently and hoisted herself up.
“Good girl,” her mother said, quickly getting to work stripping off her clothes. “You just lie still and Mama will have that naughty bottom back in nappies in no time!”
Kimmy covered her face with her hands so she wouldn’t be able to see as her mother ripped off her pissy pull-ups and slid the bulky diaper under her bottom in their place. But she could feel the cool tickle of the baby wipe as the pee was cleaned off her skin, and there was no blocking out her mother’s voice. “There you go, Kimmy,” she said, pulling thick padding up between her legs and taping it into place. “Now you can wet yourself as much as you want, just like a baby. Do you remember the rules?”
“No toilets,” said Kimmy quietly. “No asking for a change. No touching my diaper.”
“Good girl.”
Kimmy took her hands away from her face and swung herself down from the table. Her gait was spread wide; as always, the Pampers felt absurdly thick between her legs – big enough to hold a full day’s worth of a grown woman’s pee.
“Mama,” Kimmy said hesitantly, “maybe I could just use them for number one, and then when I need to-”
“You’ll poop in them too, Kimmy,” her mother said firmly. “A full nappy will help you appreciate how immature you acted.”
Kimmy screwed up her face and tried not to cry. Wetting herself was one thing, but dirtying her diaper always transported her back to those awful days of her childhood when she still had poopy accidents. She wanted more than anything to leave that phase of her life behind forever. “Yes, Mama…” she mumbled.
“Now, brush teeth and straight to bed young lady!” her mother ordered, delivering a firm smack to her bottom to send her on her way. “No dawdling, or you’ll have a red bottom under your nappy by the time I tuck you in!”
***
The full story can be found on Patreon for those who want to read more.
Life had been grand for Andrea. Traveling the world, enjoying the splendors of the nicest selections of wine and dinners her parents had graciously provided. And while she’d had her fair share of one night stands, her most recent had made an impression right before she’d left for a vacation in Europe with her family. But unfortunately, the ARV.1 virus had stolen those splendors and many more.
Effecting less than half a percent of the world, the ARV.1 virus rendered it’s victims incontinent, reduced their physical size and visible age.
Scientist, virologist and conspiracy theorist alike worked tirelessly for the cause and cure, but only a single solution was found, and Andrea didn’t care much for it.
The CDC released instructions for those who cared for the ARV.1 infected. These instructions outlined… well, babying.
Anecdotal evidence was strongly supporting that this routine of care was the most successful for the infected to recover to a semi normal way-of-life. However, the most frustrating aspect of her battle was the daily tutoring her father had implemented as a proactive measure to avoid falling behind in school.
Well, sort of.
The tutoring, by itself, was ‘okay’. Yes, she was relegated to, and dependent on diapers to keep from involuntarily soiling her parents furniture and floors.
Yes, they’d turned a “sitting room” adjacent to one of their many bedrooms into a certifiable nursery.
And yes, they’d removed her expensive clothing and replaced it with what they felt would best accentuate the profile of care she needed.
But the tutor they had selected for her had been her breaking point.
It was him.
The cute guy from the bar that she’d hit it off with a few weeks before her summer travels with her family had come strolling in. The same guy that took her back to his bachelor pad and given her the ‘night of her life’, as she’d shared with her friends.
The guy that, until her father had introduced him as they entered the nursery, she hadn’t known was a best friend of her father’s.
His initial surprise was interrupted with a silent chuckle as he found Andrea on the floor. Her diaper, visibly sagging, as she turned her humiliated gaze towards him.
She watched silently as her father and former one-night-stand lover physically reacted to the discreetly lingering smell within the room.
Her cheeks warmed as she continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. Her newly minted underwear on perfect display, sagging at the weight of its contents inside.
After a few moments of silence, her father finally spoke after dramatically heaving a long sigh.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind changing diapers.”
Come on baby brother it’s time for you to get out of here. Say bye bye to your big boy room. We’ve got all the stuff downstairs to turn this into your new nursery!
Oh stop that silly. How could I forget that you’re older. You made sure to point that out well before our parents got married, but now that you’re back in diapers and on the regression regimen it’s important to recognize that you’re just a baby now. This is why it’s so important that you go to GamGam’s for the weekend. I mean how can you accept that you’re a baby when you’ve got a TV and Xbox in your room, when your closet is filled with clothes from your old life, and when you have all these big boy posters on the wall.
None of these is fit for the overgrown toddler you’re turning into, but don’t worry big sissy, mommy, and quite a few of our friends are going to help! First we’re going to cover up these boring white walls with some adorably wallpaper! Oh you’ll love it, it’s got cute little baby animals, balloons, and clouds! Then we’re going to put a nice soft rug down so that you can spend hours crawling around and playing on the floor. We’ve got a toy chest that we can fill up for you, and we have enough baby clothes to fill your closet full! Hey no tears baby it gets even better. We’ve got a big crib to assemble so you’ll be safe and secure for nighnigh and naps, and right where this desk with your tv is we’re going to put your changing table! Oh and I’ve got a super special surprise for you. You’re getting your own adult baby bouncer put it! Now you don’t even need to worry about standing up all the time. You can just bounce bounce away while those sweet hypnotic nursery rhymes play
Now you can imagine the cost of this, so I helpfully suggested to mommy that we don’t go for a top of the line diaper pail. Sure this one probably wont stop the smell of your soaked and yucky diapers, but as I explained to mommy that’s all for the better really. Think about it, in a few days you’ll we back in here, staring at the cute duckies on the wall, bouncing away in a full diapy, and smelling all the diapers you’ve been changed out of, all while that adorably regression nursery gets your further and further away from your big boy life.
Hey don’t get cross with me mister. Plenty of grown men are getting regressed back to babyhood these days. I mean when you move back in to the house you grew up in what are you really telling the world anyway? You might as well move all the way back to a crib and diapers. Just because I recommended it to mom doesn’t mean you get to act naughty around me. Hey look down, do you see that super wet diaper hanging off your hips? Yeah it was dry when I walked in here. You’ve been peeing in it the entire time I’ve been talking. Uh huh and here come the tears. Listen up baby, you need to go downstairs and ask your mommy for a diapy change before she takes you off for the weekend. You don’t worry you silly little head about anything else. The grown ups are here to take care of all these big moves.
Just chilling in Amsterdam for a few days. Luckily some of the sex shops have cute diapers for me to wear so I don't pee my pants!
Look what my Daddy made me!!!! 🥰🥰 @guyinyourfuture
Emma got used to moving around her friend's house in handcuffs, treated more like a pet than a human. Ever since she had mentioned having a crush on her best friend Natalie, and drunkenly admitted to submissive fantasies of her more successful, prettier, more confident bestie bossing her around and using her Natalie had decided to find out just how far she could take it.
At first Natalie hadn't known how to respond, but Emma seemed so eager to give up control Natalie had to do very little to take it. What started as simple demands, Emma fetching Natalie drinks, or giving foot rubs, or cleaning the apartment soon began taking on a more sexual nature. Natalie had Emma lick her panties clean after dates, denied Emma her own orgasms, and soon had Emma move in, keeping the girl in a tiny box room that used to be a study, but now housed a small bed and a cage.
Emma gave up her possessions as Natalie wrapped her around her finger, selling them while her money, accounts, everything were signed over to her bratty new owner.
Natalie was at most bi-curious, but the power she had over Emma was intoxicating, and after a lot of begging from the submissive blonde, Natalie finally let the girl worship her pussy with her eager tongue, enjoying an explosive orgasm, part from the pleasure given to her, and part from the power she held over her once equal best friend. Now Natalie enjoyed Emma's tongue regularly, especially after she came home from fucking her boyfriend. She loved the scrunched up look of disgust she saw on Emma's face the first time she found Natalie's man's hot load oozing from her pussy, but Emma knew better than to disobey, and licked up every drop.
Accepting my boyfriend is ABDL
I thought I’d write a little about how I have gone from my initial reaction to my boyfriend’s coming out as ABDL (adult baby, diaper lover), which was along these lines:
OK, you like a harmless, peculiar, thing. I find the thought of you indulging in it unappealing, and a bit of a turn off, but I am happy for you to indulge, as long as you are happy for me not to be involved. Never hide it from me, and never be ashamed.
To my current feelings, which are:
I GET TO BE A LITTLE GIRL! I AM EXCITE! And hopefully that will go well and then I can be a caregiver to you as a little too! And then we can play TOGETHER as a pair of littles! And oh my gosh, it’d be great if I can go to his event soon with him.
How did this change happen? I’ve thought about it at length. The things that have really helped have been:
1. He explained at the start that it’s not entirely just sexual (in fact, I think he said it wasn’t really sexual at all - hah! I think that was a white lie, what I needed to hear at the time). He clearly explained to me how it’s about feeling safe, cosy, loved and being in a different frame of mind where the usual adult junk doesn’t matter. I know for some people it’s not sexual at all, and for others, it’s majorly sexy, but what he said made me comfortable at the time. He used the phrase ‘age play’ to describe his fetish, which I found easier to deal with than ‘diaper fetish’ or something.
2. He made it clear I could ask ANY questions, WHENEVER I wanted, and made sure he answered them all sincerely, frankly, and as as clearly as he could. Some of them took a while to answer - like when I started to ask how it is sexy to him. This is because he hasn’t had to answer those questions before. If he was stuck on how to answer something, he told me so, and I patiently put it on the back-burner. I found his frankness, clarity of thought and ability to articulate some difficult stuff really attractive. He’s a good ‘un.
3. He made it clear that I don’t have to do anything or get involved. It could entirely just be his thing, that he goes off to events to enjoy a few times a year, or in his alone time. This put me at ease - no pressure! That was great.
4. When I started exploring the fetish, he expressed how super happy it made him (even if it was a bit surreal for him!). I checked out some sites, to see what sort of clothes he might wear, and when I felt brave enough, sent him a link to a romper that I thought he could get away with wearing as cute pajamas around the house, that wasn’t TOO babyish. He made it clear he was really touched that I was even curious. Positive reinforcement is a great motivator!
5. He explained to me that it isn’t related to some childhood trauma, and stressed that he had a brilliant childhood. He tackled that subject head on, and that put my mind at rest, and meant I wasn’t wondering about how to engage in such a delicate conversation. It’s not my business, of course, unless he chooses to make it as such, but I would hate to accidentally trigger some disturbing memories in chatting around ABDL stuff. I know this will vary a lot for other folk, and I have my own issues in that area, but it helped me to understand that it’s just how he is built.
6. He made it clear it didn’t involve anyone else, aside from folk he plays with at events / meet ups, and the folk who change him. He doesn’t have what I’d now call a caregiver, and events don’t involve any sexy happenings with other people.
7. When I expressed an interest in seeing sexy changing times, he hooked me right up with some videos. I’ve got a soft spot for porn where one partner is submissive and dominated in the most genteel way (massage videos?! Jeez, I can’t imagine just lying there in the buff, fully lit, in such an intense situation. I know, I’m such a weed :D ). This has replaced the slightly rougher stuff I was into when I was younger. After seeing a few bits on Tumblr, I realised that changing times might be considered gentle sub-dom. It was a bit less weird than I expected. In fact, the first video I chose to watch featured lockable mittens and I was over the moon to see such adorable fetish equipment. Now I’ve seen some that are downright hot. Lovely smut :)
8. We talk about our fantasies. This isn’t always easy, and I think he still worries about me being grossed out by his interests, but the long and short of it is, my boyfriend wants me to wear some giant padded undies, cute clothes that I adore, and take me for a picnic. I may or may not find it super sexy, but that just sounds like a great afternoon! And I wouldn’t have to pee in the bushes in the park ;). I know that if I wanted to try something different, he’d be happy to hear me out and give it some serious thought.
9. Finally, and most importantly, I think, is he has both a sense of scale and a sense of humour about his ABDL desires. For instance, when I told him I was curious and interested in trying out being a little, he asked if he had to watch Formula 1 with me in return, a sport I love and he thinks is rubbish. Newp ;). His ability to laugh at the situation keeps me at ease.
It’s not been an overnight thing, it’s taken a couple of months for me to reach this point. I can honestly say I 100% *support* him in his interests, and some of them now sound super appealing and fun to me, and I hope that I will enjoy partaking too. I know that I might not - all sorts of situations are appealing in the mind and then you get into them and think.. oh shit, no. Not for me. But I’ll continue to support him, and I know that I have now accepted this part of him, which I was worried I never fully could.
You lean there against the bars of your crib, despondently contemplating your future. Hair done up in the most adorable pigtails, the prettiest and cutest onesie imaginable snugly wrapped around you, your thick and now ever-present diaper swaddling your groin… Yes, you are quite the sight. You know it. Auntie reminds you of it every day, after all…
A sigh escapes you as you meditate on the life choices that have led you to this unexpected place. Not every twenty-three-year-old young woman expects to be reliving her infancy! Normally, folks finish college and find a job so they can settle down, maybe find someone special, pay off those hideous student loans, and get on in life. Well… that’s the plan, anyway. But when a job isn’t forthcoming, and you’ve got no family to rely on… It’s tough.
Into that darkness had suddenly come Auntie’s offer. She was not really an aunt - more of a friend of your parents before they’d passed away - but she did seem to have a soft spot in her heart for you. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty obscenely wealthy, either. So when she’d offered to help you out if you could only come live with her and help with her home business as a personal secretary, you’d jumped at the chance. Maybe fairy godmothers - or at least super generous aunties - really were a thing! At any rate, you had nothing to lose, right?
Well, maybe you did, you reflect now, feeling yet another warm spurt of urine wash into the reassuring padding between your legs. Sure, Auntie was taking care of your student loans, waving a bank account number and magically making them disappear. But she, indulgent as ever, had also begun to buy you clothes and furniture that seemed decidedly out of keeping with your age. It wasn’t every young college graduate that had footie pajamas, sparkly princess shirts, and a bed with a built-in railing, was it? The pattern had progressed over the months, and you’d kept your mouth shut, not wanting to appear ungrateful to the woman who had literally given you a financial future…
Until the day when she’d brought home a onesie and shortall set with snaps in the crotch, and had begun cooing over how cute you’d look in it. You’d timidly asked the rather rhetorical question: did she want you to look like a baby? And when she’d unexpectedly told you, yes, she kind of did, the real discussion had begun. She’d always wanted a child of her own, she sadly smiled, and you were the closest thing she’d ever had to a daughter. Couldn’t she at least pretend that you were her little girl? It would mean so very much to her…
Well, the power dynamic being what it was, you’d been completely and utterly unable to say no.
So here you were, a full year into your new job with Auntie. It had been six months at least since you’d even touched the big girl potty - six months that had been filled with little more than bottle-feedings and high chairs, bulging diapers and smelly diaper pails, a doting Auntie and you as her increasingly dependent baby girl. You felt your big girl life steadily slipping away, all the exciting knowledge and ideas from college drifting ever more certainly into the past… You were Auntie’s “secretary” now - more like her office baby, whose only remaining job was to waddle and crawl around and put the wadded-up papers one by one into the trashcan. It was a mind-numbing routine, but admittedly a seductively simple and comfortable one. No phone calls or meetings or appointments like Auntie had - just your familiar carpet and toys and ba-bas to keep you company… It could be worse, couldn’t it?
And as you felt the familiar pressure building in your tummy, you sighed again, releasing the now-familiar wave of soft, warm mush easily and steadily into your expanding diaper, followed by the involuntary flood of pee afterwards. Well, whatever. You didn’t get upset over such things anymore. Auntie would change her stinky baby sometime soon. It didn’t matter much anymore, after all - you were wet or dirty most of the time these days. Maybe that was the real trade-off, you mused as your diaper slowly sagged underneath your adorable onesie. Trading your dignity and independence for a secure future…
Was it worth it? You honestly didn’t know… But even if you did, you probably couldn’t have done a thing to change it. Not anymore.
Image Credit: Ageplay247.com
Please keep my caption intact if reblogging; as long as you do, may the dust bunnies under your furniture magically disappear.
