ernestoabdl

[ernestoabdl]

A Lesson with Mr. Peterson

“From now on, the boy will come to my private tutoring only with proper protection! I will not tolerate any accidents during my classes. Show Daddy what I had to put you into… and at your age…” Mr. Peterson said to your Daddy when he came to pick you up.

When the person you now only call ‘Daddy’ introduced you to the age regression kink, being his school boy seemed kind of hot. From comforting you to scolding you. Picking your clothes and telling you how to eat properly, and even dressing as a school boy. You were making up little stories about how your day was at school, while he watched you and listened. As time went by, from specific kink sessions, it developed into a lifestyle. He was the parental figure at home, the reasoner, and the one who made sense, while you became the cheeky boy who sometimes misbehaved. There were times he needed to force you to sit over his knee for a proper lecture.

There was one evening when you two had dinner, when Daddy opened a bottle of wine, drank two glasses, and put it away. You were not allowed alcohol at all. After dinner, he kissed you and went to bed early. The cheeky boy that you were, after missing the buzz from drinking, you went for that bottle and thought you could have a glass or two while Daddy was asleep. You didn’t know it was a special kind of wine, and it made you drunk after a couple of minutes. You turned the TV so loud that it woke Daddy up. He came to the living room and saw you drunk. He went to the couch, flipped you over your belly, and gave you two swats to your bottom.

“Go to sleep now!”

The morning after, you woke up and walked to the kitchen where Daddy was sitting and having his morning coffee.

“Daddy I’m sorr” “Stop it right there!” he said, “Sit”.

“Your behavior last night was unacceptable! Not at all. I thought that in time we’d laid the ground rules, but it clearly shows that we didn’t. Drinking?”

You looked down as he was speaking. You were a grown man, but felt like a kid whose father was parenting him. You didn’t want to disappoint him, you wanted him to be proud of you.

“I’ve talked to a private tutor who corrects the ways of boys like yourself, so go get dressed in your school boy uniform, because we leave in 30 minutes.”

You didn’t dare to say anything, you just stood up and went to get dressed. 

At the tutor’s door, you felt anxious, so you went for Daddy’s hand and held it.

The door opened.

“Hello Richard!” the man said.

“Hello Mr. Peterson,” Daddy replied.

“You must be our little trouble maker, I see,” Mr. Peterson said and pitched your cheek.

“Daddy, you can leave, your boy is in my good hands. Come back at four, we’ll have four hours, we will accomplish so much in that time.”

Daddy turned you to face him and said, “You will be a good boy and do exactly as Mr. Peterson says, do you understand me?”

The two older men looked at you.

“Yes Daddy.”

Mr. Peterson took your hand and walked you inside, as Daddy left and closed the door. As you walked, you looked at the man again, and he surely looked familiar. You thought you saw him in one of Daddy’s friends' meetings. His name was Mat, you recalled. 

Mr. Peterson got you in front of a wooden heavy table, with two chairs. On the table were a notebook with pens, a bottle of water with two glasses, and a wooden paddle.

“You will only refer to me as Mr. Peterson, and I will only call you ‘Boy’. You will do as I say, when I say it. The notebook and pen will be for our private lesson, we will do light math, middle school level, I bet you need it. We have water we can drink, and we will drink only water and not wine. The paddle, we don’t have to use, if you behave. If you won’t behave, we will use it over my lap.”

The paddle and Mr. Peterson frightened you. When Daddy smacked you last night, it hurt, but this man seemed to know what he was doing, and it looked like the paddle was his specialty. Maybe many boys were over his lap getting spanked. But after all, you are a man, you can get through the lesson without getting spanked.

Mr. Peterson poured water into one of the glasses.

“Sit and drink.”

As the hours went by, you two went through basic math. He figured out your level and began from there. You did exercises and you always referred to him as Mr. Peterson or Mr.. Every few exercises, he poured water into your glass. You were the one who was drinking, he wasn’t, not even once. Two hours had passed.

“Mr. Peterson, can I go to the bathroom, please? I need to pee,” you said.

“After this one, boy. We are in the middle.” “But we are fifteen minutes on this one, please, can I be excused?” you asked again with less patience.

“Boy, we are finishing this one, then you can go,” he said calmly without looking at you.

It made you mad. He wasn’t even looking at you. You are a man after all, he should give you a bit of respect, even in this scenario.

“Listen Mat…”

“Stop stop stop! How did you call me?!” He raised his eyes and his voice. You knew trouble was coming. Just from his authoritative voice and posture. 

“Sorry, Mr. Peterson.”

“Oh no no no, you called me by my first name. This is not acceptable at all in this household. Boys will behave here, they will learn in a good way or the tough way!”

Mr. Peterson grabbed the wooden paddle in one hand and pulled you over his knee with the other. He was surprisingly strong for his age and looks. Maybe it was the age regression or the scenario you were in, but you didn’t object, you went over his lap. From the man who said ‘Mat’, to the boy who went over another man’s knees.

The frightens from before took over you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you yelled, “Please don’t”.

Mr. Peterson pulled your trousers down and left you bare bottom.

SMACK SMACK SMACK

“No, no!” you tried again.

He forced you to stand.

“Take off your trousers and underwear completely,” he ordered.

You did as he told, but whined and sobbed. He grabbed you again and pulled you over his knee. The fright was overwhelming, you didn’t want to get spanked anymore. Over his knee, you wet yourself uncontrollably.

“Oh dear,” Mr. Peterson said and stopped, “it appeared you learned your lesson”.

His shoes and floor were soaked, you were not, you peed all over but not on yourself. Your penis was pointing towrds the floor while being spanked.

“I will go clean myself, you’ll stay here and wait,” he said and walked to the hallway.

What was happening? What was going on? You just got spanked by an older man because you didn’t call him ‘Mr.’ during a middle-school math lesson, and it scared you so bad you had an accident over his knees. You new Daddy is soon to return and you are standing butt naked in stranger’s living room, only wearing a school boy’s top. Your pecker got shriveld. You not only felt like a boy, you looked like an overgrown one.

Mr. Pieterson, wearing fresh trousers, came back with a few things under his arm. A folded colorful kind of mat, baby powder, cream, and what looked like an oversized baby’s diaper. He went to the other side of the huge wooden table, unfolded what was a giant changing mat, and said - “Op on, the table can take it, trust me”.

Silently, you did as you were told. All was surreal, you saw the diaper, you saw the changing mat, you lay on the changing mat, and yet you still didn’t connect the dots.

“I knew you were a boy, but not a little boy. Little boys at my house need to wear diapers if they can’t control themselves”, he said as he raised the big and thick diaper in front of you.

“But,” you tried to say something.

“No buts. You’ve done talking, now spread those legs.”

With such ease, he creamed and powdered you. Lift and lower your legs. Taking care of your sore behind and crotch. In two minutes, you were thickly diapered and fully dressed in your schoolboy uniform.

Two knocks at the door were heard the moment your feet touched the floor again.

“Let’s go greet your Daddy.” he took your hand and walked you to the front door.

“Hello Daddy” Mr. Peterson said.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Peterson,” Daddy said.

Your eyes stayed on the floor, cheeks blushing red.

“What happened?” Daddy asked, not you, but Mr. Peterson.

“Your boy was such a good boy. We worked on his math, which is a little bit low level, but he’s a bright young fella. Then he got cheeky and called me by my first name!”

“He didn’t.”

“Oh yes he did. But I taught him a lesson with my paddle, the paddle you agreed was necessary in his lessons.”

“I did, he may have needed that, and he did.”

“But that’s not all. Boy, take down your trousers and lift your arms above your head,” Mr. Peterson commanded you.

With such shame, you did as you were told. Standing there, showing off your printed, thick, fresh diaper. The real shame came from the reality that you wet yourself over the man’s knees.

“Oh my boy, what happened?” Daddy asked, this time, you.

But Mr. Peterson answered for you - “Over my knee, our poor boy had an accident. I think the paddle scared him, like it does to little boys.”

“I didn’t think it would get to this point, but it has,” Daddy said.

The two men were chatting about you. But you weren't a part of that chat. You couldn’t say your side or how you felt. They didn’t ask, so you knew not to talk.

You were the one with a daddy.

You were the one who came in a schoolboy uniform for a math lesson with an older man. You were the one who got spanked and wet himself.

You were the one who wore a diaper.

Little boys stay quiet while the men are talking.

“From now on, the boy will come to my private tutoring only with proper protection! I will not tolerate any accidents during my classes. I have a new pack of diapers for him until you get him more. I have a feeling he’ll need it.” Mr. Peterson said and went to get the package.

When he came back, Daddy pushed your shoulder so you’d take the big cardboard box away from Mr. Peterson.

“Now say thank you to Mr. Peterson for the math lesson, spanking you, and diapering you,” Daddy ordered you, like a boy who needs his parent to spell it for him.

“Thank you, Mr. Peterson,” you said and blushed.

“No no no, the whole thing,” Daddy said, disappointed.

“Thank you, Mr. Peterson, for the math lesson, spanking me, and… diapering… me,” you said as you moved your body, hearing the crinkle of the diaper.

“Good boy” Daddy said.

“Good boy. I’ll make you my prime student. Okay, until next time,” Mr. Peterson said.

“Now go to the car and put your new diapers in the trunk. Go!” Daddy said and patted your padded butt.

As you walked away, the two men stayed and shook hands warmly. You were far away, sitting in the car, feeling the diaper around you. Embarrassed after your father picked you up for wetting yourself.

“Thank you, Mat, your methods are working,” Daddy said to Mr. Peterson.

“No problem, keep going as I instructed you, and your boy will show wonderful results. Now go along, we’ll set up another lesson for this week. Don’t forget to use enough baby powder!”

The men laughed and said farewell again.

----------------------------

So many private tutoring sessions are yet to come for @submissiveboyuk

[ernestoabdl]

What I Want

I want to be treated like a little boy.

I want you to help me pick out what to wear, and put on my clothes.

I want you to ask me if I have to potty, because little boys don’t always remember to stop when they’re playing.

I want you to ask me which superhero is on my underwear today, and wonder out loud whether they’ll have to fight the Evil Pee Monster.

I want you to check and make sure that my pants aren’t wet every so often.

I want you to gasp loudly and say, “uh-oh!” when you find I couldn’t stay dry.

I want you to take me by the hand to go change into something dryer, and more appropriate.

I want you to gently but firmly make me put on my pull-ups that you brought with against my protests.

I want you to reassure me that it’s ok to have accidents sometimes, that’s just what little boys do.

I want you to give me my paci to calm me down when I fuss about my new, thicker underwear.

I want you to help me take my pants off so you can check my pull-ups when we get home.

I want you to ask me when my pull-ups got wet ,and how, and why didn’t I say anything to you.

I want you to take me over your lap when I admit I didn’t even try to make it to the potty.

I want you to pull down my wet pull-ups and spank me while commenting on how disappointed you are that I don’t seem to care about not going pee pee in my pants.

I want you to hold me close, and gently rub my red bottom and tell me it’s ok while I cry softly into your chest.

I want you to stand up and tell me that it’s bedtime, and therefore diaper time.

I want you to drag me away while I protest that I don’t need diapers, and it’s still daylight outside.

I want you to ask me if I’ve already forgotten my sore bottom, since backtalk results in spankings.

I want you to lay me down on the diapers you laid out and powder and lotion my bottom.

I want you to tell me that I must be a very little boy indeed to still need diapers at my age.

I want you to ask me if I secretly wanted to be back in diapers when you see how turned on I’ve become.

I want you to tease me about my diapers getting wet during the night while you tape me securely into them.

I want you to give me my paci and cuddle me, and call me little one, and pat and rub my bottom while telling me that you don’t mind that I’m just a little boy, even when I’m naughty.

I want you to tell me that if I’m a good boy tonight and wet my diapers, maybe you’ll give me an extra special change only for really good boys in the morning.

[ernestoabdl]

How Mommy says bye to her little cucky before going out with friends🥺

[ernestoabdl]

"Jesus christ you stink." Brad said as he strode past.

I'd been playing with the blocks on the floor, like I'd been told. I tried to stay quiet, to not put up a fuss, to garner as little attention as possible, but there was no escaping nature when it called.

I'd learn to do it discreetly. It's sad that I even have to say that. Hey, guess what I can do! I can poop in my pampers without alerting anyone else in the house!

The problem is I have to wear it afterwards. Carry it around with me when I'm done, feel the warmth mush into my backside as it slowly cools down.

"Turn around." Brad ordered. I whimpered as I obeyed, scooching on my knees to present him with my plump pamper.

You want to know one of the most humiliating things in the world? Having to sit there and suck on a pacifier while your best friend pulls back the waistband of your diaper and checks for poop.

"Quite the load in there, pipsqueak!" he chuckles, giving me a swift kick in my bum. "Did someone have an accident?"

"Yes..." I whimpered. Denying it or playing dumb would only make things worse.

"Yes Daddy."

"Yes Daddy!" I hate that he makes me call him that. We used to get into all sorts of shit together. Now I guess I'm the only one.

I heard him bend down behind me, he pressed his hand in between my legs, mushing the mess into me and rubbing the entirety of defiled diaper back and forth. "Tell Daddy what you did in your diaper."

"I went poo poo's in my diaper, Daddy!" I whimpered. My cock was screaming inside of the cage he put it in.

"Louder! I want the neighbors to hear you!"

"I WENT POO POO'S IN MY DIAPER DADDY! I WENT POO POO'S IN MY DIAPER DADDY!" I repeated it over and over while he wriggled my pampers until he was satisfied.

"Good little bitch." He laughed, standing up once more. "Now crawl in there and ask your wife to change you. I gotta warn you, though, she may be exhausted from the pounding I just gave her."

It was probably true. I could hear her wailing and moaning from the bedroom over the sounds of hips clapping against each other.

I hung my head turned onto my hands and knees. Preparing for my walk--or crawl--of shame.

"Uh uh uh! Not so fast!" Brad tutted, wagging a finger at me.

I stopped, looking up at him, wondering what I did wrong this time.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked with a wicked grin. I racked my brain for what it could be, but then his hands gripped his own waistband, and dropped his boxers to the floor, his much superior dick bobbing before me. "I think you need to thank me for allowing you to get changed. Tell me if you can taste your wife's juices on my cock!"

Photo credit goes to @Toddlerjay on twitter

[ernestoabdl]

He Has To Learn

It was early morning, and soft lights got through the shades of your nursery. They moved you there recently after you were surprised with this new project. They thought it was time to take your new lifestyle to new and necessary heights. You weren’t seen as a man anymore. You acted, dressed, and treated around the house as a toddler at most. A nursery with a crib was a natural step.

You woke up slowly, after a long deep sleep. They tucked you in around 9:00 pm. You slept so heavily that you thought you wet yourself more than usual because your thick diaper felt heavier around your waist. You were on your belly, hugging your teddy bear, still sucking on your relaxing pacifier.

“Good morning” “Good morning sexy” You heard voices from your recent master bedroom. Where you used to sleep on a king-size bed and have grown-up sex. But they moved you, like a kid, to this babyish room, a nursery. Now they slept in the master bedroom, and you were not. You were the master of this house, and then you were not.

Your belly began to ache, you needed to go number two in your diaper soon.

“Do you want to go check on the baby?” “No need, if he’ll need us we’ll hear the baby monitor. Now turn to your back, fuck you are so sexy.” The voices and bed noises came from across the hall.

You also turned to lay on your back, still holding your bear, still sucking your pacifier. Your bowels were starting to rumble.

“Legs up!” A deep sexy voice came from the grown-ups.

You also raised your knees towards the chest, knowing the best babyish position to let it go in your diaper.

A grunting noise came from the baby monitor. “Don’t worry about him, he must be just pooping his diaper, ignore the big baby”

You grunted in your crib, making noises. They moaned in the master bedroom, making noises.

You pushed. They pushed. You sucked. They sucked. You hugged your teddy bear. They held each other. You made your final effort and pooped your diaper. They made their final efforts and had incredible orgasms. You were sticky. They were sticky.

Your natural baby instincts made you cry for a change behind your pacifier. You were heard from the baby monitor.

“Let him cry for a bit, he has to learn we won’t run to every cry, or he’ll be such a needy baby”

You lay there messy, crying in your crib, waiting for their attention. While they got up, from your past bed, to get ready for the day.

[ernestoabdl]

I want to slowly unpotty train you.

Disclaimer: All content is fictional, consensual, and intended only for mature audiences. All characters depicted are adults aged 18+ _

I want to slowly unpotty train you. I’d start by having you wear pull-ups at night beneath your jammies. You’d be so comfy, snuggled up beneath the covers with Daddy’s arms wrapped around you. I’d give you soft pats on your padded bottom and make you feel so at ease. I’d gently encourage you to wet them. That's what they're for, after all. And before too long you’d be wetting then every night.

I’d convince you to wear them during long car rides, just in case you fall asleep or can’t hold it quite long enough to make it to the potty on time. But then I’d make sure not to stop until after you’d had an accident. Then I’d gradually have you start wearing them more and more often during the day, like when we’re out shopping. I’d make sure to keep us busy so there’s no time for bathroom breaks. Besides, you don’t really want to use those nasty public bathrooms, do you? Using the protection under your pants is a much better option.

You’d be wearing pull-ups almost all the time. And most mornings, you’d wake up unsure whether or not you had wet during your sleep. Until over time, more and more often you’d wake up with a leaky pull-up and soaking wet sheets beneath your bottom. I’d put you back in thick, crinkly diapers, because the pull-ups just aren’t enough to hold your accidents anymore.

You’d be in diapers every night and pull-ups during the day, until I pointed out how much you love your diapers. How safe and swaddled they make you feel. I’d tell you Daddy loves you in diapers too, and I’d start putting you in then during the day as well. You’d let little leaks out here and there until you barely noticed when you were wetting anymore.

Soon enough, you wouldn’t have any control left at all. You’d helplessly fill your diapers wherever we are, even in public and in front of friends, family, and strangers. And you’d just grow more and more embarrassed, and more and more dependent on Daddy’s kindness and care. You’d grow to love your diapers until you were nothing more than the helpless, thumb-sucking little diaper baby you’d always secretly wanted to be. _

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[ernestoabdl]

If you like the thought of being hypnotized to need diapers, here are a few links to free hypnosis files that might be of interest to you:

1. TrainDiapers (Bladder incontinence when diapered and in safe space):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/613-traindiapers

2. DiaperTrap (Bladder incontinence when diapered + 2h after taking it off):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/626-diaper-trap

3. Bedwetter Fear to Reality (convinces you to need diapers for bed):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/362-bedwetter-fear-to-reality

4. TrainBedWetting (training to become bladder incontinent when sleeping):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/618-trainbedwetting

5. TrainBladderIncontinant (training to permanently erase all bladder control):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/622-trainbladderincontinant

6. Anti-Potty Training (erases the knowledge of how to control bladder and bowels):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/363-anti-potty-training

[ernestoabdl]

Three Little Bares

I watched Matty’s hand scribble the red crayon back and forth on the paper.  He held it crudely in his fist.  The loops and lines he drew displayed a clear lack of fine motor skills.  He could probably manage buttons with a bit of time, maybe a little help.  He assured me he had dressed himself for our visit, so he wasn’t totally incapable.  I assessed his ability level as typical for a three to four year old boy.  

“Y’know what it is yet?” Matty stopped and looked eagerly at me.  

I put my hand gently on his back, giving him some physical assurance.  “Not yet Matty. Keep going,” I directed.  

With a grin, he resumed his scribbling, not doing very well at staying inside the purple crayon lines he’d begun with.  Matty was squirming in his seat as he drew, wiggling his bum, swinging his legs back and forth so his bare feet brushed across the carpet.  It was typical hyperactive behaviour, again appropriate for a four year old.  

But Matty wasn’t four.  He was as tall as me.  His caregiver, Patrick, told me Matty was twenty-six.  Physically that is.  Intellectually… well, that’s what I was assessing now.  

Matty was as tall as me, had his brown hair cut relatively short, easy to keep tidy.  He was thin, though not skinny.  But aside from his physical size everything about him would have been more appropriate in a preschooler.  That included his clothing.  

I was more than a bit surprised when Patrick led him into the office, wearing those bib overalls, a bright yellow t-shirt underneath, looking like an overgrown minion.  And barefoot as well, perhaps more like Huckleberry Finn.  But really, more like a toddler, like a barefoot little boy.  

“All done!” he proclaimed, beaming at me, waiting for my approval, squirming in his seat even more.  

“Oh wow, that’s really cool Matty!” I told him, taking the scribbled, indecipherable drawing.  

Matty was oblivious to the fake praise, like any little boy.  He giggled and nodded, eating it up.  

“Y’know what it is now?” he demanded.  

“Hmm. Well, it’s got a tail…” 

“Uh-huh,” he nodded. 

“And it’s red and purple…” 

Matty giggled gleefully.  

“I’m going to say it’s an armadillo.”  

Matty laughed his head off.  “No-ohhh,” he sing-songed.  “Don’ be silly!”  

“I’m not being silly Matty.  I think you’re the one being silly,” I accused playfully.  

Matty was able to recognise that tone, not taking me literally.  That was important to note.  

“Uh-huh,” he agreed. “I like bein’ silly!”  

“I’m sure you do.  But tell me silly Billy, what did you draw?”  

“Silly Billy!” he echoed cheerfully.  

“Well?”  

“It’s a monkey! I seen ‘em at the zoo.  Daddy took me.  I like the zoo a lot. Monkeys is my favourite,” he explained.  

“They have purple and red monkeys at the zoo?” I asked. 

Matty looked cheeky as he nodded.  “Uh-huh. And they’re blue and yellow and gween too!” he insisted.  

“He has quite an imagination,” Patrick interjected.  

Matty nodded. “I’m good at making stuff up. Daddy says so lots!”  

I’m sure he did.  Patrick gave me a knowing look, but just nodded as Matty looked to him for confirmation.  

As he turned in his seat and rested on his knees I got a good look at the soles of his feet. Wow, they were quite dark looking, a mixture of brown and black.  

“Hey Matty, could I look at your foot for a moment,” I asked him, calling his attention back.  

Matty nodded, sitting back on his bottom and offering me his right foot.  I took it in my lap and felt the sole.  

“My goodness, that’s like leather,” I declared.  

Matty looked confused.  “What’s that?” he asked.  

“Oh, it just means the bottom of your foot is really tough,” I explained.  

Now Matty smiled again.  “Oh, yeah, I got real tough feets.  Cuz I don’t got shoes.”  

“Matty, that’s not true,” Patrick interrupted. “You have shoes.”  

Matty shrugged. “I mean, I don’ never wear ‘em.”  

“Never?” I asked.  

Matty shook his head vigorously.  

“Not even for the zoo?”  

“Nuh-uh. I had bare feet just like the monkeys.  They c’n climb good in their bare feets.  I can too!”  

I nodded, but put my hand on his shoulder to stop him demonstrating his climbing abilities right there.  

“The ground doesn’t get too hot? Your feet don’t get sore?” I asked.  

“Nope,” he insisted.  “My feets are too tough.”  

“Why don’t you wear shoes?” I asked. 

“Barefoot is more comfy. But you don’t know,” he told me.  

“I don’t?  Why not?”  

Matty giggled.  “Cuz you’re big.  Grown-ups can’t go barefoot.  That’s just for little kids.  Like me!”  

I patted Matty’s knee.  “And that makes you happy?  Being little?”  

Matty nodded right away.  “Being big is boring.  Daddy never gets to play.”  

It still stuck me as very odd, the way he called his caregiver ‘Daddy’ when he very clearly wasn’t his actual father.  Patrick was probably thirty years old.  So that made it even stranger.  But the key message here was that Matty was happy as he was.  His feet were tough and dirty just like any four year old’s, because he liked being barefoot and his caregiver, his daddy, indulged him.  

These things were important to know.  This was a job interview for me, but I was also assessing whether I wanted the job.  Being an in-home carer, basically a regular babysitter for an intellectually impaired adult was a difficult job and I wanted to make sure I was able to actually help the man, and that I was comfortable with how they were being treated by their full-time caregiver.  

So I had assessed that Matty was operating at the level of a four year old on most of the metrics.  He dressed like a little boy, liked being barefoot, and had a ‘daddy’ who seemed quite loving and positive with him.  That all checked out.  

“Can I have a cuddle?” Matty asked me, quite unexpectedly.  

“Oh, well of course sweetie,” I assured, opening my arms.      

Keep reading

[ernestoabdl]

Hi! Love the blog. Can you recommend other creators who still post really humiliating forced regression content? Hard finding as much porn since the tumblr purge

Hello! Thanks a lot for your nice message, I appreciate that! Sure, however, I realized that for whatever reason I cannot link some of them (so I will just mention their name):

vin-nl (short captions similar to some of mine & pictures)

diapertrainingashley (regression captions & pictures)

@nidosissycappies (short stories & images)

@paddedlittleparadise (longer stories & images)

@moodxxl (short captions & pictures)

@sissychristi (short stories containing humiliation, regression, sissy & pictures)

@regressionrevolution (some regression stories & pictures)

helplesslyregressed (short but excellent regression and humiliation captions, sadly she stopped posting a few years ago)

diaperwomen-captions (short stories & pictures)

female-punishment-in-preston (short stories containing regression, diaper discipline and humiliation & pictures)

@becomingbabyagain (sissy, diaper and wetting captions & pictures)

@nannychloetales (book excerpts containing different AB/DL scenarios)

@blog-mysticpiratezombie-posts (captions focused on wetting and sometimes diapers & pictures)

@dprdom (short stories containing forced regression)

@3yobbg (captions & pictures)

@mellow-september

@quietlyhumiliated (longer stories containing humiliation)

all4thedips (mostly stories)

itsnappiesforyou (captions & short stories containing diaper punishment and humiliation)

@maggiecaps (diaper stories from a girl who wears diapers 24/7, so she definitely knows what she writes about!)

That’s it for now, hopefully I didn’t forget any major diaperstories blogs. I hope some of them are new to you - enjoy! :)

Edit: As expected, I forgot some important blogs of the AB/DL community here on Tumblr, just added them to the list above! If more are still missing, let me know and I will happily add them!

[ernestoabdl]

[ernestoabdl]

A little human intervention, and Josh will never question an app controlling his diapers again. I’ve posted a new chapter @ https://www.patreon.com/posts/44411445 Here’s a short preview: “Tell me, Josh, have you ever taken a suppository before?” Toby then asked, dramatically changing the subject. Oh no. His finger. The lock. The punishment. It all made sense now. My heart thumped faster. Not a prostate check, you idiot. Of course I’d tried them before, but I wasn’t a fan of irritated approaches to expelling my backside. “How long do you think you could hold one?” ‘I-I, uh.” I was pathetic. I was about to shit my locked pants and I could barely argue to save myself. “It’s recommended you hold one for twenty minutes,” he said coldly, “So what do you say, hold it for thirty?” My jaw fell. There was no way. Twenty would be challenging enough. “Forty?” “Please stop,” I whimpered. The fine line between a fun fantasy and reality had collapsed on me. With the distraction of getting diapered and locked up now gone, I could feel the gentle itch starting to form inside me, like the knowledge of knowing my butt was spiked was a psychosomatic kick to get the suppository working. “Seeing as it’s your first offence, let’s make it thirty,” Toby said, tapping leisurely on his tablet. “Think you can handle that?” “W-wait, I don’t think I can do that!” “Oh good, because you need some incentive not to defecate your pants, right? How about, for every minute remaining in those thirty minutes, that’s an hour before that lock opens.” “You can’t! I have to work tomorrow!” I scrambled, with my mittens almost slipping on the wooden floor. Anything less than an amazing performance would see me stuck well into tomorrow’s working hours, never mind having to sleep and live in my filth tonight. Hours and hours in a stinky diaper. They couldn’t do this to me!

[ernestoabdl]

This is a three-part caption about alternate career tracks in academia.

The images used for the first and for the second (I think so at least) caption were created by Swabbs and were originially published on www.cushypen.com.

The pic used for the third caption features a character belonging to Sierra. Sadly, I don´t really know who has created the picture. If you know more, please let me know so that I can add the details.

As always, please let me know if you hold any rights in regard to the pictures used on this site and if you oppose the way they are used here. If you do, I will remove them immediately.

[ernestoabdl]

Baby Aisle Bargains

"Let's pick up the pace, Crinkles - only a couple more items on the list."

    I shuffled along behind Mommy, feeling incredibly self conscious of my rotund rear, not to mention the fat latex bulb filling my mouth under my face mask. My biggest pacifier was just big and long enough to be an invasive intruder, difficult to forget. I would rarely if ever choose to use it.

    As sources of worry however, the thick padding and XL pacifier bulb lagged behind the list's final items. Mommy's eyes smiled back at me over her sterile and very mature turquoise mask, apparently pleased to observe the anxiety she had imposed upon me.

    "You're doing great, baby." Mommy squeezed my hand and looked at me expectantly.

I attempted to express some kind of thanks around the soft but persistent oral intruder. I thought it ended up sounding like incoherent mumbling, but it made Mommy happy.

She giggled and I tried to remind myself that I should be grateful to have such a caring and enthusiastic caregiver. The warm squeeze of her smaller hand pulled me farther into the empty baby aisle. Between towers of gleaming packs of puffy Pampers and Huggies, the noise of the store dulled.

    "Baby, you know people have lots on their minds, right?"

    I nodded and suckled, glad to have made it to this quiet refuge.

    "Nobody's going to notice your, you know..."

    I could see her inspecting and mentally undressing me, staring at the bulge. "They're just going to think I bagged a cute boy with a hot bubble butt!"

    She slapped my bottom and giggled at the hollow thud. She was being playful but wanting to avoid any additional attention, I quickly mumbled my agreement.

    There was really nothing to worry about. The empty baby aisle was a quiet place of pastel colours and sweet scents. It was comforting but I was still struggling to get my mind off my own oversized pampers and pacifier. I couldn't help but worry that the silliness of my appearance was even more apparent with the additional open space in the store brought about by social distancing measures. I still was not used to being taken out in such thick padding, and the new mask and secret underneath didn't help with my anxiety.

    While Mommy had selected simple patterns and solid colours for her masks, mine had been ordered in childish patterns celebrating my 'favourite toys and television programming'. Quarantine had ended up as full time play for us and mercifully, she had not selected Paw Patrol for this trip out. Instead I had donned a Lego pieces pattern that could probably pass for hipster were we to come across any vanilla peers, an ongoing concern for me with Mommy's ever increasing enthusiasm for this lifestyle.

    "Look baby, aren't these sippy cups so you?" Had it been a question, I would have had to admit that they were. I watched as a couple soft silicone topped cups bearing babyish interpretations of my favourite big boy hobbies were added to the cart.

    "Sometimes I think your biking and gaming buddies would be really jealous of how much I take care of you."

    Mommy insisted that she had no interest in outing me and enjoyed keeping this 'little' secret between us but I had to wonder, especially when she had me wrapped up in double Tykables Overnights out in public. I was grateful she had let me out of my little soccer kit, one of her preferred play outfits at home. Instead I was permitted to dress myself in big boy clothes of my choice. I had been warned that this summer we wouldn't be slowing down and that I would be getting used to being diapered under just my shorts and a T-shirt, wherever and whenever we ended up.

I counted myself lucky that we weren't there yet, though we had arrived at today's final destination. We looked over the shelves of perfect little colourful jars and I absently felt myself dribble out more warm wetness.  Mommy was staring at me smiling, probably thinking that I must be peeing. Chugging back a liter or two before adventures out had become a routine rule and my diapers were starting to feel the effects. She reached out and took my hand in hers, squeezing reassuringly.

    "We can take turns. You can pick the first jar, and then I'll pick, and so on. Just remember what we talked about." Her eyebrows raised as if to tell me I had better be a good boy.

    I nodded and mumbled back my acquiescence around the mouth-stuffing pacifier. The baby thing had initially been my idea, but Mommy warmed up to it very quickly and now I was getting too much of a good thing. Recently she had expressed that my big boy amusements, from video games to erections and orgasms, ought to be earned through enthusiastic little behaviour. If I forgot to be showing how eager I was to be a full-time little, I was at risk of getting cut off from those privileges.

My 'enjoyment' of baby food was to be no exception. Mommy had cautioned me that trying to take the easy way out with fruit flavours would earn me a stomach full of the least appetizing favours on an ongoing basis, via enema if necessary. I would have to pick something with medium appeal to avoid the pink and brown jars of chicken and gravy, turkey dinner, and hamburger. We had discussed how if we had a kid we would never feed them this crap, yet here we were, selecting an assortment destined for my already funny feeling tummy.

    I reached out and took a jar of carrot, watching Mommy for a reaction, but seeing none, I slipped the jar into our cart.

    "Good boy, not a bad start. This might go well with... Squash."

    She settled her own jar in the cart and I smiled back. That wouldn't be so bad. I picked a jar of peas and Mommy picked a jar of spinach even though she knew I already disliked the grown up version in the first place. I moaned my displeasure and watched Mommy's brow furrow.

    "Rule change. Mommy picks two for each pick baby makes."

    I whined and in protest grabbed a jar of banana, a flavour that I had specifically been warned about as being too easy.

    Mommy responded with a incredulous chuckle as she collected up beef with broth and chicken casserole. She placed them in the cart and rubbed her stomach, "Mmm, yummy for my baby's tummy, right, Crinklebutt?"

    Her voice had got a bit husky and I guessed that her panties were getting damp thinking about having me bucking in my high chair restraints, rebelling in response to my churning insides. I felt myself swell in my small chastity cage, suddenly eager to impress her. I sucked hard and looked along the shelves for something scary but manageable. I settled on chicken and vegetable risotto, and showed Mommy, wondering if I knew what I was doing.

    "Good boy! What a mature palate my little man is developing." She ruffled my hair softly. To anyone else it was an innocent touch but I could feel her pushing me further into babyish submission.

    "I was hoping to let you buy the new game you've been asking for, and now I think it will be an easier decision to make." Her eyes brightened and I could tell that behind her mask she was grinning and biting her bottom lip. "Tell you what... If you let Mommy pick the rest of your meals, maybe we can even help you make a sticky mess soon. Would you like that, sweety?" My eyes widened at the prospect and Mommy continued. "Play your cards right, Mister, and maybe we could even have..." I gulped as she paused for effect: "ESS-E-EX. And I don't just mean with the strapon over your diaper."

    I moaned and nodded eagerly as my chastity cage filled to capacity. I wanted to show her how much I wanted to be her good boy and suckled on my soother nipple noisily. I worried I was being obvious, but I knew it was likely to receive praise and make her feel good. It was not always easy being a nearly full-time toddler, but mention of release and maybe even ES-E-EX prompted me to try my best to show off how much I loved being Mommy's little baby. Being trapped in diapers and limited to rare and generally humiliating releases, a chance for 'big boy snuggles' had become a huge deal and I was not going to screw it up.

    "That's Mommy's good little man! Those fruit flavours are for babies and you're my big growing boy. You need protein and lots of it!" Brown, pink, and orange little jars began to fill the cart, promising that this type of diet was about to become routine. Beef stroganoff, chicken cacciatore, spaghetti with meat sauce, roast beef and many other culinary delights now rattled around the cart.

    My stomach rumbled and I remembered that despite the fun we were having, it was my tummy that would receive this slop. I thought about Mommy getting out the awkwardly large purple silicone cooking spoon along with my plastic Toy Story bib, complete with a wide pocket for saving any mush that missed my mouth. After the jars were empty, I would get to enjoy a reclaimed mixture of whatever ended up in the pocket. I considered how chicken and gravy might pair with pasta and meatball sauce and wondered if I knew what I was getting into.

    I knew it was unlikely, but if I could hold it together and show gratitude for these feedings, there was a possibility that I could get out of my chastity device and into Mommy's bed to try to impress her with real genuine big boy ES-E-EX! It was a silly goal but looking into Mommy's sparkling eyes, I knew I would do just about anything to get that chance.

[ernestoabdl]

Good boys get rewards! sometimes...

To enjoy this video properly you want the volume up 😉

[ernestoabdl]

You never thought going to dinner at a friend’s house would lead to you having a nap on the floor, diapered, tired after a very long evening. Two of your very best friends, who are a couple, invited you for dinner. The food and mood were great, and you three had such a great time. You had to go to the bathroom at some point, which you knew was at the end of the hallway. You stood and said you were going to be back in a minute. The couple switched looks, which was weird. You walked by a room that was always closed, but now the door was semi-open. Curiosity overtook you, and you decided to hold your pee just for a bit longer. You knew both of them were very kinky, but they never seemed to be interested in sharing their kinks with you. You were very curious, but you never asked. But when you switched the light on, you saw how kinky they were. At first glance, the room looked like a child’s room, but it certainly wasn’t. Everything was much much bigger than normal. It was adult size. A large-thick diaper and shortalls were laid on the single bed with rails. Someone tapped your shoulder, you turned around and saw the couple in front of you, blocking your way. “Hey guys, you forgot to close your door. I remember seeing online a picture of a guy wearing a diaper and reading a bit about this fetish. Kinda humiliating but you guys do you. So which one is the baby? Haha” you asked smiling. “We are both daddies, and you are going to be our baby tonight.” one said sternly. Your smile turned to a frown. Both of them grabbed you and forced you to bend over the rails. You tried to protest, but two are stronger than one. A spank after a spank, first over your jeans, but eventually on your bare bottom. It was so humiliating, so degrading. You were getting spanked in front of the diaper you knew they were going to put you in. After the spanking stopped, they laid you on the bed, explaining how after knowing you for so long, they decided to treat you like the boy they knew you are. That you needed their care and guidance. You were so embarrassed because you knew they were right. They knew you better than anyone else. They knew that sometimes you can act like a child. They knew you needed structure. They knew you needed a firm hand. After you were diapered and dressed, it was all too much, and you began to cry. A pacifier came a minute later to calm you down, which made you feel more humiliated as you peed your diaper. An hour later, on the mattress, you were given crayons to draw for your new daddies. What could you do with crayons? You are an adult, not a baby! But you knew you had no chance, you didn’t want to go through another spanking. So you stayed there on the floor, exhausted, defeated, cried yourself to sleep while sucking a pacifier. Your new daddies saw you falling asleep on the floor, broken down. It made them so empowered, so dominant, so horny. They started to make out right there in the living room in front of you. This is their kink. This is their fetish. Having sex in front of defeated adult babies like you.

—————————————————————– @closetkrinkster thought you just coming over for dinner, but he got so much more.

[ernestoabdl]

It’s been one year. One whole year since daddy had started your transformation from a college boy to a baby boy. It wasn’t easy, not for him and certainly not for you. What a long journey you two had taken. So much crying. At first from spankings and punishments, but now for wanting a change and a bottle. So many diapers. From thin white diapers to thick printed massive diapers. From holding until letting go in a diaper to not even noticing what happened down there. From having so many studying books to have so many coloring books. From having so many friends to having stuffed animals as your best friends. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. Now you know everything daddy tells you, it’s for your own good. If he tells you to be quiet and suck your pacifier, it’s for your own good. If he tells you to go to sleep early, it’s for your own good. If he locks all kind of adult and mature content and lets you watch just baby shows, its for you own good. If he decides who you can meet, where, when, and how, it’s for your own good. You are not arguing with him anymore, you are submissively doing as you are told. When he told you he invited his manly friends from his country club for your first anniversary, you knew it was for your good.

With a diaper, he put a foam crown on your head and told you to hold your little stuffed friends. He saw you were a bit nervous, and said “We can celebrate with my friends, and yours!” kissed your forehead, and lifted you onto the kitchen’s countertop.

Shy and timid, you waited for your party to get started. But it was okay because daddy knows what’s good for you.

———————————————— @littletigertonio knew it was for his own good.

[ernestoabdl]

Infant feels