i3diapers

[i3diapers]

Just Playing Pretend.

Alright, Huggy Humper, you've got five more minutes left till we change that diaper of yours.

You'd better hurry up and finish, you're running out of time. I really don't care; you're the one whining about wanting to do 'big boy' things with me again. So, prove it. Prove to me that you're still capable of playing on the big equipment. Oh, you will, if you want me to play with your actual 'big boy equipment' ever again. That's right, I'll need to see some of that desire and determination. I need to know there's still a man inside you who won't let something like a squishy diaper get in the way of achieving his own satisfaction.

So, Giddy up, partner! Ride that horsey, show me what you've got.

Ugh, so pathetic. Just look at you, gyrating and stewing in your soiled diaper, you're actually enjoying your 'playtime' up there, aren't you?

-Sigh- Well, that's all I needed to see. I just wanted to know how far gone you really were; it didn't take much coaxing on my part, either. No, no, just keep going, you might as well enjoy yourself.

Now that we know what you're capable of. There won't be any scheduled 'playdates' between us. It's best if I just supervise your 'playtime,' instead. Besides, a little guy like you is better off playing pretend anyway.

[i3diapers]

Since you hate baby talk so much, how’s about we give you a new rule to make it even more humiliating for you ❤️

In every reply to an anon for the remaining time, you have to add in one silly rhyme, eg. instead of tummy you say tummy wummy, instead of super it’s super duper, and so on (exceptions being when little miss soggy-britches is so embarrassed that she can’t manage any big girl words at all and can only go 🫣😖😳). How does that sound? I bet it would take the silly baby down another peg or two!

Meany weenie

[i3diapers]

New Laxatives, Worth Noticing

The very latest for the loo! We direct your attention to these NEW products to try out in your adult baby’s toilet-control regimen — one from our apothecary section, two from our littles’ fruit-and-veggie food line, Applesauce Addy.

LaxaLotion. Baby won’t realize the cool, silky cream you apply to their rashy tushie is helping ensure a new dirty diaper sooner rather than later! Or maybe you’d rather warm the jar in some hot water and rub the lotion into their stubborn little tummy. Thin, non-greasy texture is silky and soothing. Wear gloves to apply. Specify scent powder, lavender, rosewater, lemon balm, cedar-vanilla.

Plum Pudding Mousse Mix. A deliciously dainty dessert for littles! Dark, fruity, spiced flavor is excitingly complex for “big kids,” and the airy whipped texture is fancy as can be! But even if they guess from the plummy richness that the primary ingredient is prunes, they’ll never expect how powerfully it’ll propel their poo-poos. Effective dose is about a quarter cup, so place a tasteful dollop on real adults’ coffee cake and then hand adult baby a cereal bowl full. Such toots and poots are sure to follow! Each box contains directions for the basic mousse, plus a surprise recipe card for another clever prune confection.

Adult Baby Applesauce Mix. Where Plum Pudding Mousse made testers’ little bottoms “almos’ essplode,” this Applesauce is a gentler way to increase poopy-diaper fullness and frequency. Add equal parts of this dried apple powder to plain water, and it’ll mix up quick into a complete adult baby food! Marvelously messy for spoon-feeding, this applesauce is supplemented with potato starch and protein powder — plus a hefty dose of silky-textured fiber. Combined with certain herbs, this recipe complements the natural stool-softening effects of apple with a profound bulking-up action, increasing the volume in baby’s bottom for a bigger, more satisfying bowel movement that doesn’t feel artificially induced.

[i3diapers]

Hello potty pants,

I am honored to let you know that you have been accepted to Mr. H's School for previously gifted kiddos. The following contains your new uniform, your expected things to bring to your first day, and your new schedule. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow bright and early.

Please show up tomorrow wearing:

- a skirt (must end before 8 inches above the knee)

- a blouse

- stockings or pantyhose

- a diaper

- comfortable cuffs on ankles and wrists

With these supplies in a book bag

- 3 more diapers

- snacks

- a butt plug

- the vibrator of your choice

- a spanking implement of your choice

- a stuffie you don't mind humping

- something you don't mind showing off to the class

- head phones

- a gag of your choice

Schedule:

8-915: Math for when you're too horny to think

915-1030: physics (when a hard object meets an extremely squirmy object)

1030-1115: Sex Ed for the Cucky baby

1115-1230: Arts and crafts

1230-130: lunch

130-230: napping induced by hypno

230-345: English (the best adjectives to use when describing yourself)

I am very excited to have you in class and can't wait for you to meet your classmates.

[i3diapers]

[i3diapers]

Ash is such a little potty pants :3 can't even hold it

😖😖😖

I don’t even know what I can say to this at this point…. 😵‍💫

[i3diapers]

Ms. Ava was one of the babysitters your mommy hired for you when she had her nights out. While she wasn’t mean, she definitely treated babysitting you like a chore. And to her, it probably; she was cool and attractive, and you had been reduced to an overgrown, diaper-clad toddler.

“I don wanna go bed early!” You fussed.

“Daww but look at how grumpy you are, kiddo,” Ava cooed, “I think an early beddy-bye time would be good for you.”

“Nooo,” you whined, “I’m a big kid; I don’t need go bed early!”

Ava giggled: “Big kids don’t need their icky diapies changed like how I just changed you; isn’t that right, lil stinker?”

Ms. Ava was right, of course. I puffed out my cheeks in indignation, “Well, if you put me to bed early, I’ll tell mommy you were mean, and you won’t get to have your special playtime!”

For as cool as Ava was, she was caught up in Mommy’s hypnotic affections — just like me. Well, maybe not exactly like me. Mommy’s affections compelled me to eventually become her babyish plaything, subservient to diaper checks, naptimes, and babysitters. Ava, on the other hand, was a woman that mommy enjoyed having sex with, but not before her own little games. I was, of course, a part of said games; mommy usually only fucked Ava as payment for babysitting me when she wanted to go out with friends.

“Kiddo,” Ava giggled, “do you really think your mommy’s going to believe some potty-pantsed toddler over the babysitter she hired?”

Ms Ava had seen through your bluff. Your face scrunched in frustration. She was right; mommy loved you, but you were little more than her baby at this point in your relationship.

“Now,” Ava shoved a pacifier between your lips, “you’re gonna go beddy-bye and have sweet dreams of me fucking your mommy unless you want me to blister that little tushy of yours.”

All you could do was suckle your paci in the face of Ms. Ava’s final declaration. She turned the lights off, leaving only a froggy nightlight. You didn’t know if the moand you heard that night were just in your dreams or not.

————————————————————————

As always, all characters depicted are 18+

Also if anyone knows who to credit for the image, that would be lovely please :)

[i3diapers]

Bellyaching

The bottle hovered in front of my lips, milk sloshing heavy inside, beading and dripping out of the nipple. She looked down at me with a smile that was both indulgent and disdainful, like she couldn’t decide if I was funny or pathetic.

“Someone’s been quite the little whiny-pants lately,” she crooned, voice dripping with false sympathy. Then she pitched her tone higher, mocking me, almost sing-song.

“‘MoMmyYy!! My diapy’s icky, when are you changing meee?’” she parroted, jutting out her bottom lip in an exaggerated imitation of a face I must have done. She let the words hang, then shrugged, dropping her voice into a flattened tone: “You’d think you’d be used to them by now. That’s the whole point of pampers, sweet pea! You’re supposed to be shitting and sitting in them.”

Before I could answer, she pushed the rubber teat of the bottle past my lips, sealing it against my tongue. Warm milk rushed in immediately, thick and heavy. I gulped helplessly as she wiggled the bottle just enough to keep the flow steady, her mocking sing-song never missing a beat.

She continued with her mockery. “‘Wahhh MommYyYy!! My cage is too tight! wahhhhh wahhh wahhhhh!!’” She wagged the bottle in rhythm to the words, lips curling in a grin.

“‘Don’t make me wear pampers outside, everyone will seeeee!’”

“‘I don’t want mushy food, it’s yUcKy!'"

"Blocks and dolls are boring!

“Bedtime is too earlyyy!’”

And finally, with the bottle still lodged between my lips, she took her free hand and pressed it to her crotch in a pantomime of mock-desperation, bouncing up and down in exaggerated “frustration” as she whined, “‘Oooh, Mommy!! I’m so achey down thereee!! Poor widdle meee!! My pampy plums are turning blue!! Boo-hoo!!’”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she plopped the nipple from my mouth with a wet pop, clutching the bottle dramatically to her chest with both hands. She fluttered her lashes in a false falsetto: “‘Please can I make stickies? Please, Mommy, just a few seconds with buzzyyy? I wanna make a goo-goo!!!’”

Her eyes narrowed as she shifted back to her normal tone. “Mmhm. Crying. Pouting. Bellyaching. Whimpering. Always something…”

Before I could even catch a breath, she shoved the nipple back between my lips, cutting off any protest as the milk rushed in again.

“Every time you start that noise,” she said firmly, sweetness turning sharp, “I’m going to assume you’re crying like a baby who needs a feeding. Not arguing. Not negotiating. Not ‘making a point.’ Hungry. For milk.”

Her smile bloomed again, saccharine and cruel.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” she cooed. “Every whine, every little huff, every pouty puff: another ba-ba. That’s how we’ll handle it. No more sulking, no more backtalk. Just bottles. And bottles. And more bottles… until my little loser's tummy is all round and noisy!”

She gave the bottle another shake, wiggling it in between my lips, milk sloshing against my tongue. I cringed at the taste, thick and cloying, but she only smiled down at me.

“D’awww!! What’s the matturr?? Hmm? Did you think it’s just plain ‘ole cow’s milk you’re drinking, buttercup? Haha! Oh no! This is special milk! Thick formula to keep that belly nice and heavy, a little fiber to keep you regular, and a splash of daddy’s milk, just so you never forget who you belong to.”

The formula poured steadily, rushing too fast. I struggled to keep up, swallowing in noisy gulps, my cheeks hot with effort. She chuckled, giving the bottle a firmer push against my lips. “That’s it, loser. Keep up. Keep sucking. “You will suck whatever I put in your mouth without protest. Pacifier, teether, bottle, Daddy's big fat dick...doesn’t matter. You’ll suck and swallow everything down like the good little cry-baby you are!!”

Then she started working the bottle back and forth. Almost like she was jerking it off. Right into my mouth. The nipple tugging at my lips and then roughly pressing back into it before sudden spurts of milk flooded my mouth. I gagged, scrambling to swallow, and she let out a low giggle.

“Awww!!! Does this remind you of something, baby?” she cooed, eyes alight with mischief as she worked the teat back and forth, watching me choke on the spurts.

It did. She knew it did. Her holding Daddy’s cock, guiding it to my mouth the same way she does my bottles. Telling me that “the widdle baybee needs his milkies!!” The bulb of his head throbbed inside of my whimpering lips. How his dick tasted of salt and sweat. His gruff voice telling me this was the only way I was getting a change. Her maniacal laughter ringing in my ears as I mewled and sucked and slurped, humiliated beyond words.

“I still remember your sobs,” she crooned, then pitched her voice higher in a mocking whine: “‘pLeAsE dOn’T maKe mE sUcK hiM, Mommyyy!’”

She dropped back into cold indifference, lips curling. “Big deal. Get used to it. You’ll be doing it again. And again. And again. Every time Daddy wants. Did you like the taste of his man-milk? Because there will be a LOT more where that came from.”

I remember the way his cock felt when it pulsed in my mouth, pumping his warm, gooey, bitter load onto my tongue. The same way Mommy was pumping the bottle now.

The thought having to do it all again made my stomach churn. Before I could stop it, I let out a pathetic plea: “M-mommy please…”

It was small. Muffled but unmistakable. Her eyes immediately lit up.

“Ohhh, what’s this?” she teased. “Did I just hear a little protest?” She sounded angry, but she looked positively amused. “That counts as a whine, baby boy. Which means another bottle.” She laughed softly, delighted, then leaned close, her tone dripping with sugar. “Mmm, please? Please what, sweetheart? Please no more bottles? Or please don’t make you do your widdle cucky-suckies on Daddy??” Her fingertip brushed my cheek, mock-gentle. “Either way, it sounds like more fussing to me!!" She laughed softly, delighted. “Keep it up, silly goose!! You’ll drink yourself sick before long.”

She tilted the bottle higher, keeping the nipple jammed between my lips. I gulped desperately, each swallow heavier than the last, my belly noisy and tight. I tried to twist away, wheezing for a bit of air, but her hand pressed firm against my chest.

“Uh-uh, sugarplum! You’ve still got a little ways to go!!” She gave the bottle a another shake, thick white still clinging to the sides. “Don’t you dare leave Mommy’s milk unfinished! Drink it all down like a good little mushy moaner!”

I whimpered through the nipple as she tipped it again. The last warm mouthfuls slid heavy down my throat until the bottle gave a sharp whistle, a hiss of air sucking through the nipple. Only then did she finally plop it from my lips, satisfied. A low, miserable groan slipped out of me as I tried to squeeze a breath into a chest already stretched and aching

She immediately mimicked me in a singsong voice: “‘Ooooh Mommy, my tummy’s sooo full!! Poor widdle meee!!’” She chuckled and pinched my cheek painfully. “Goodness! So full, so whiny, and still trying to act like you’re not my baby. But I can hear those bubbles begging to come out.”

Before I could protest, she gripped my wrists and tugged me off my back and folded me forward towards my knees. The swollen padding between my legs squished as she lifted, warm and clammy from the last time she’d made me drink. My belly pressed tight against itself, round and stretched, the fullness sloshing uncomfortably inside me. I let out a pitiful squeak as both the soggy diaper and the gurgling in my gut shifted under the pressure.

“Tsk tsk, just look at you...” she murmured, lifting the end of the bib around my neck and using it to dab at my cheeks where milk and drool had dribbled out. “Messy face, messy pampers. Just what am I going to do with you?? When Mommy holds the bottle, you’d better keep up. No more dribbling milkies down your chin. If you don’t glug-glug faster, we’ll have to think about another punishment for our sloppy sucker!”

She reached behind her and plucked a cloth from the basket, draping the burp rag neatly over her shoulder. The gesture made my stomach drop lower than the milk had. One more babyish ritual, as if I were nothing more than a drooly infant in need of her care.

“Come here, bloaty boy!”

She pulled me in close, sliding me into the hollow of her lap until I was nestled between her thighs, my body folded forward against her. Her arms wrapped around me in an embrace that almost felt intimate, almost tender—if not for the rag tucked against my cheek, the rocking, the humiliating way she handled me like I was nothing but her oversized baby.

She swayed us gently back and forth, chest to chest, her chin resting atop my hair. One hand rubbed broad circles up and down my back while the other patted rhythmically at the thick, sodden seat of my diaper. With every dull, squishy pat, she reminded me that I wasn’t in control of anything. Not my feedings, not my bladder, not even the air trapped in my belly.

“Shhh. Big rubs for my little gasbag,” she cooed, the sing-song lilt twisting the knife. “You’ve got a balloon belly and a soggy bum, and Mommy knows just how to fix both.”

My stomach lurched with every rock, every pat, the bubbles climbing higher in my chest. I clenched my jaw, mortified, refusing to give her the satisfaction. If I just held on, maybe I could keep it in, along with at least some of my dignity.

She chuckled softly, as though she could hear the war inside me. “Mmm, I can feel it rattling. Poor stubborn piddle-pants, trying to hold it back like a big boy!! But you’re not, are you?? You’re Mommy’s gassy little feeder, and Mommy always gets her burps.”

The pats grew firmer, timed with the rocking, her palm pressing through the thick bulk of my diaper with each bounce. “Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t fight it. Big burps for Mommy! Let’s hear them.”

My gut gave a noisy gurgle against her chest, and I bit down harder, cheeks puffed, eyes squeezing shut.

“Ohhh,” she crooned mockingly. “Trying so hard to keep it in. Look at that pouty mouth. Look at those red cheeks. Doesn’t matter, baby boy! Because Mommy will just keep patting. And rocking. And waiting. Until—”

The pressure finally surged too high, and a loud, wet burp tore free against her shoulder, muffled into the rag. I sagged instantly, humiliated.

“There we goooo…” she cooed, triumphant, kissing the top of my head. “Knew you couldn’t hold it forever. My noisy little stinker!! All better now, hm?”

My stomach still felt heavy, but the sharp edge of the gas had eased. Against my will, I mumbled, “A… a little.”

“Mhm. A little relief for my overstuffed tummy-tot.”

Her steady rocking and pats finally wrung another noisy belch out of me, followed by a hiccup. She grinned like she’d claimed a prize. “There we go. Mommy knew you had more in you.”

She kept rocking me, her palm giving a few more pats against my back before she eased me down onto the mat again. I sank into the rubber, limp and dazed, milk still sloshing uneasily in my belly, but glad that at least it was all over.

But then she wagged the empty bottle between two fingers, her smile sharpening. “Now then,” she said sweetly, “Mommy will be right back… I’m gonna go make another one.”

My eyes flew wide, a startled noise catching in my throat.

“Awww!! What’s that face for?” she teased, crouching to plant a kiss across my forehead. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you? That little whined you tried to whisper through your ba-ba about having to be a little cocksucker? That already earned you another. And that groan just now? That sealed it.”

She rose, bottle dangling casually from her hand. “You know the rule: whining means baybee must be hungee!! And you, sugarplum, just can’t seem to help yourself. So Mommy’s going to fill up another, and you’re going to drink it alllll down. Because we wouldn’t want our widdle baby going hungries now , would we??”

The urge to whimper caught in my throat, trembling there, but I swallowed it back down. For a moment she smiled, as if pleased I was finally learning. Then her hand dropped to my middle, giving my bloated belly a slow, patronizing pat that made it slosh in protest.

“Don’t worry, buttercup! If your tummy’s too full, we’ll just burp you again. And again. And again. Until alllll that bellyaching is gone!! Maybe then all those widdle fussies and whiny noises will finally disappear for good.”

[i3diapers]

Do you and your wife share any kinks?

Unfortunately, not really 😂 she's pretty vanilla, and I'm...

... not 😂

Thanks for the ask!

-Daisy🌼

[i3diapers]

I like my men all incompetent 🍼🤤

[i3diapers]

All My Links 💖 To view more captions, join the community on discord.

[i3diapers]

[i3diapers]

[i3diapers]

This is what happens to pups that can't be trusted to go potty outside. They get thick, noticeable, crinkly diapers. As well as a good boot lodged in their ass to check if its due for a change..... So, little one, are you certain you want to be my fuck mutt?

(Feat a very good boy @grizzlybear-underwear we met up for a play date. Many pics and gifs to come.)

[i3diapers]

Binkie had laughed when he first told her about them. Those “special diapers.” The way he’d described them, like something out of a fairytale for naughty littles, was so over the top she couldn’t help but roll her eyes and play along. Magic diapers that could “take your potty training away”? Please. It was just another one of his teasing stories.

Still, she let him guide her onto his bed, the soft crinkle of the fresh padding loud in the quiet room. He’d chosen the most embarrassingly babyish print he could find: pastel animals parading across the front. The white tee he gave her barely brushed the top of the diaper, and the pigtails he’d tied into her red hair completed the look.

“You look perfect,” he’d said with that maddeningly smug grin.

Now, five minutes later, she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, one hand absently resting over the front of her diaper, still amused at the silliness of it all. She was about to make a joke when it happened, an odd, warm flutter deep in her belly. It startled her, but she ignored it, thinking it was nothing. Then her bladder let go. No warning. No clenching. Just… releasing.

Her eyes went wide. “W-wait...”

A spreading warmth bloomed under her hand, racing across the front padding before she could even think to stop it. The crinkle under her palm grew softer, heavier, as the diaper greedily absorbed every drop. Her fingers tightened reflexively, as if she could somehow pinch the flow shut from the outside, but it was no use. The stream kept coming, unstoppable.

He was leaning against the headboard, watching her with the same relaxed satisfaction as someone watching the last piece of a puzzle click into place. “Told you,” he said, voice low and far too pleased.

Her mouth opened, then closed. She was supposed to be protesting, supposed to be annoyed at being tricked, but her voice wouldn’t come. She could only stare at him, the heat in her cheeks matching the heat in her diaper.

“Can’t hold it, can you, Binkie?”

She swallowed. The urge to deny it rose up immediately, but the squishy warmth between her thighs was too obvious, the faint scent of baby powder and something wetter too telling. She shook her head once, almost imperceptibly.

He chuckled, pushing off the headboard and crawling closer. “Five minutes. That’s all it took.”

Her lips pressed together, trying to keep her expression neutral. Inside, though, her thoughts were tumbling, shock, confusion, a prickle of fear at how real it felt. It wasn’t supposed to work like this. She’d worn diapers before, sure, but she’d always been in control of when she used them. This… this was different.

He reached out, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. “And here I thought I’d have to wait a few hours before you’d lose it. Guess my little girl is a natural.”

She wanted to glare, to tell him this was all some weird fluke. But then his hand moved down, resting lightly over hers on the thick, damp padding. The gentle squeeze he gave made her stomach flip, and without meaning to, the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

“Ah,” he said softly, grinning as he caught it. “There’s my baby’s real answer.”

Binkie bit her lip, but the smile broke through anyway, small at first, then spreading, betraying her completely. Still embarrassing, yes, but softened by the way he looked at her, like she’d just proven something he’d known all along.

He leaned in, kissing her forehead. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t even miss the potty. Not once you get used to how nice this feels.” His hand slid down over hers, fingers pressing into the thick, swollen front of her diaper. The slow, deliberate rub made her breath hitch, the damp padding squishing under his palm.

A soft, helpless moan escaped her lips, and this time she didn’t try to hide it.