mountainbadger

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Happy Easter! Can we go hunt for eggys now 🥹

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Game Over 💙🩵🤍

🎀 Justfor.fans.com ——> SophiexxLittle 🎀

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Looks like daddy made a mess on me! Teehee :3

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✨️ Sleep-less In Seattle ✨️

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Someone really needed their diapers last night 🤭 let’s get you changed little one 💜

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🩷

Bbabybbear Changes Lola’s Diaper 🩷

Catch the whole photoset and all of the shenanigans on JustForFans!

@bbabybbear-reboot

Photo by: @hbananer

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Caught you peeking 🤭

🎀 Justfor.fans.com ——-> SophiexxLittle 🎀

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Why are you out of your nursery? Mommy will come check on the little baby when I have finished Daddy. Bear will have to keep you company until then.

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Diaper changes while running errands are lots of fun! Especially when mommy waves to the other cars. Who wants to see the whole video?

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Good boys get rewards! sometimes...

To enjoy this video properly you want the volume up 😉

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I'm not allowed bathroom breaks when cleaning 🖤💦

JFF, MV

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Who loves teletubbies? 🥰😋

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What I always wanted .

This is how I wish and wanted my wife would have treat me.

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sitting pretty for you 💘

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Strip Tease

"What's wrong, Oliver?" Mommy chuckled as she sat at the end of our bed, inspecting my outfit, "You've been begging me for this for so long. Isn't this what you want?"

Mommy--my wife--wasn't wrong. I had been begging for precisely this for months. For an opportunity, no matter how small, to prove I was a man, a sex object, something to be desired, and, most of all, something more than the overgrown pants filler she had turned me into.

Mommy grabbed the waistband of the tight, sheer briefs she had dressed me in, and used her leverage to pull me between her wide spread legs.

"Go on, baby," she moaned, grabbing my rapidly hardening cock, "Show me what you got."

Heat radiated up my cheeks as my wife dominated me in this new, deeply sexual way.

Not wanting to waste my opportunity, however, I got to work.

Emulating the dancers I'd seen on TV, I began to gyrate my hips seductively.

"That's my little slut," Mommy cooed seductively, "Dance for your Mama!"

I did as I was told.

I twisted, gyrated, sashayed and twerked. I did push ups, pull ups, and showed off my ample cock in every way I could think of as my wife teased and cajoled me, just as if I was dancing in a strip club.

Despite feeling dirty and somehow ashamed during the display, I couldn't help but feel proud at the same time.

As I danced, my wife's fingers drifted into her panties. She began to moan and rub herself to my little show.

"Such a good boy. Such a good little slut," she groaned as her free hand worked its way into her shirt, massaging her breasts, "Now, on your knees, show Mama what you can do with that tongue!"

Before I knew what was happening, I was kneeling on the floor, my wife's thighs wrapped around my head. My cock was rock hard in my slutty little underwear. I was moaning in delight as I devoured Mommy's pussy.

"Good... Fucking... Boy!" She moaned as my tongue darted in and out of her.

This felt good. Almost too good.

After more than a year as my wife's adult-sized baby doll, it was intoxicating to be treated as something else, to serve another function, even if that function was a living sex doll instead.

I felt my wife's hand reach for the back of my head and push my face deeper between her thighs as she neared climax.

"Fuck!" she moaned, causing me to grin into her dripping wet lips as I continued to lick her.

Unfortunately for me, my wife's slit was not the only thing dripping wet in the room for long.

In my excitement at pleasuring my wife, I had lost focus on the growing pressure in my bladder.

After a year of near 24/7 diapers, my bladder control was near non-existent.

Unnoticed by me as I happily devoured my wife's slit, I was soaking the slutty little underwear she had dressed me in to prove how 'adult' I was.

"Oh, oh, Ooohhh!!!" She screamed as she came.

I could feel her pussy clinch around my tongue, pulsing, as her thighs flexed, squeezing my head.

Her whole body tensed as she through back her head screamed in pleasure, cuming like I had never seen her cum before.

When she was finished, she leaned forward, grabbed me under the chin, and pulled me up to eye-level.

"That's my good little slut," she said as she leaned in for a kiss, reaching down and grabbing my cock over my soaked briefs.

I blush radiated over my whole body as, for the first time, I realized I had wet myself.

She released my lips, met my eyes, and shook her head in disappointment.

"It looks like little was the operative word there."

She released my cock and grabbed my hand.

"Come on, baby. You took care of Mommy, now it's my turn to take care of you. Let's get you cleaned up."

I hung my head in shame as my wife led me back into my nursery, wondering if getting wiped and diapered was as close to being 'taken care of' by my wife that I would ever be again.

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You come stomping into the room like a toddler on a mission—undoubtedly thinking your Jurassic Park T shirt, and khaki shorts actually make you look like a big kid.

I can’t help but giggle at my silly little one, not wanting to break the spell by pointing out how obvious the outline of your diaper is, or how adorable the crinkles are, announcing your presence like an actual T-Rex.

Or the adorable one on your diaper.

How could I when I see that big grin is practically contagious, capable of melting any Mommy’s heart? And then the way you’re hugging your stuffed triceratops like he’s your co-pilot? You’ll never understand how adorable you are to me.

“Mommy! It’s Jurassic Park day! We’re going today, right?! I got my rexy diaper!!”

Your excitement is real— bubbling over, barely contained—and I can’t help but smile. You’ve been waiting all week, talking about dinosaurs at every meal, making your stuffies act out roaring scenes during quiet time. But I also know what happens when things get too loud… too real.

I kneel in front of you, placing my hands gently on your crinkly hips. You’re bouncing a little, eyes wide, so sure you’re ready for a big-kid movie. But I already know the answer.

“Oh, baby… I know you’re excited. But I think that movie might be a little too scary for my little guy.”

Your smile falls almost instantly. You blink, trying to keep it together, but I can see the sadness settling into your eyes. You glance down at your feet.

Trying to hide your little tears from Mommy.

“B-but… but Mommy I got ready an’ everything…” you mumble, voice already wobbling. “I-I even picked my brave dino diaper…”

“I know, sweetheart,” I sigh, brushing a piece of hair from your forehead. “You look so brave. You are my brave boy, But the movie theater is loud and dark, and those dinosaurs on the screen? They’re not like your plushies. They roar. They chase. They…”

I can’t even mention what they actually do to people. I’ll do anything—anything—to protect my baby boy's innocence as I can.

My baby boy.

“I don’t think my little boy would make it through the previews without crawling into my lap, covering his eyes.”

You scrunch up your nose—that stubborn pout starting to build. The stomp comes next, one foot hitting the floor, then another. Your fists ball up. I know exactly where this is going.

“No fair! I’m not a baby! I’m—!”

I scoop you up before the tantrum erupts, settling you against my hip with one arm securely around your bottom—your thick, warm diaper squishing against me. You fuss a little, squirming in my hold, but I give you a firm pat and carry you straight to the car.

“Okay, okay,” I coo, using my best Mommy voice—the one that always soothes, even when you’re at your brattiest. “No tears, baby. How about this… instead of the scary movie, we go to Target, and you can pick out any dino Lego set you want."

I lower you gently into your carseat, guiding your arms through the straps and buckling you in snug, brushing your cheek as you finally settle down.

Your pleading, hopeful eyes let me know I’m into something.

Target, however, proves to be its own battlefield.

You scan excitedly for the raptor set you’ve been eyeing, but the shelf is empty. Gone. There’s only a little tag left behind, mocking you from where the box should be. You freeze, staring at it in disbelief, and then the emotions start to bubble.

At first, it’s just a frustrated whimper.

Then your fists ball up.

And then, right there in the Lego aisle, you lose it.

You stomp your feet with a loud crinkle, your voice rising as hot tears roll down your cheeks, lisping in frustration. “Nooo! I w-wanted the waptor one! That’s not fair, Mommy!” You scream loud enough to draw attention, and before I can even try to redirect you, you throw yourself down hard on the tile with a heavy thump—wailing and kicking, your diaper bulging out from under your onesie, on full display to anyone walking by.

Several heads turn. One mom gives me a sympathetic look. Another just shakes her head. But I’m not embarrassed—I’m your Mommy. And this is exactly why you don’t get to decide when you’re ready for big-kid things.

I walk over, kneel down, and give you to the count of five to pull yourself together before we visit the family bathroom.

I know it’s no use—you’re too far gone.

You're so distraught about the Lego set that you can't even hear me counting. In one swift movement, I swoop my sobbing baby off the floor like it's nothing. You're completely lost to your tantrum now, your cries growing louder and louder the farther we get from the Lego aisle.

I carry you straight to the family bathroom at the back of the store. The second we’re inside, I lock the door and set you down firmly on the changing bench, holding your shoulders steady so you have to look at me.

“I warned you,” I say softly, firmly. “Tantrums in the aisle? Screaming and kicking on the floor like an overtired toddler? That’s not how my little boy behaves. You know better than that.”

You look up at me, lip quivering, already regretting the outburst. “I-I just wanted the raptor one,Mommy. Y-you promised,” you whimper.

“I know, baby. But little boys don’t always get what they want. What they do get,” I say, reaching into the diaper bag, “is a consequence when they act naughty in public.”

Your eyes widen as I pull out a travel pack of wipes, a small paddle, and a clean paci.

I hate to punish you after all this disappointment, but it’s my job. You need Mommy to help you learn and grow.

“Nooo, M-mommy, please—!”

“Uh-uh,” I cut in, popping the paci gently into your mouth. “This is exactly why you still need Mommy to make the rules.”

I don’t need to say much more. You end up over my lap with your shorts on the floor and your soggy dino diaper tugged down just enough.

The spanking isn’t hard—just firm, measured swats, enough to sting and remind you that tantrums have consequences. You’re sobbing by the time I pull your diaper back up, tears slipping down your cheeks, your pride more bruised than anything else.

Once I have you dressed again, I gather you into my arms and hold you there—soft and quiet in my embrace—while you breathe through the big feelings, your head tucked under my chin.

“There we go,” I murmur, rocking you slowly. “Mommy still loves you. Mommy will always love you. But Mommy needed to remind you how to behave. Understand, sweetheart?”

You nod meekly, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, paci bobbing softly between your lips.

I give you a soft kiss on your forehead before carrying you back out—your bottom sore, your legs wrapped around me, your tantrum forgotten as you melt into Mommy’s arms.

This time, you don’t argue when I pick out the smaller T-Rex Lego set for you. You just rest your head on my shoulder and cling to your stuffy as I carry you to the checkout, whispering soft praise into your ear for calming down.

You don’t say a word as we check out.

Your head stays buried in my shoulder, arms locked around my neck, and your legs dangle limply over my hip. Your thick diaper squishes against me with every step I take, but you’re too far gone to notice.

Every few seconds, I hear you sniffle—soft, broken little hiccups—like you’re trying to be brave, but don’t remember how.

I carry you out to the car in silence, your new Lego set tucked under my arm, your paci still wobbling between your lips.

You don’t even look up when I buckle you into your carseat. You just let me guide your arms through the straps and click them into place, your fingers clutching the corner of your onesie like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. The regression is deep now—you’re not fussing, not whining—just staring at nothing with wide, overwhelmed eyes.

Your breathing is shaky. Your chest rises in short, shallow puffs. That last tantrum, the spanking, the emotional letdown... it all pushed you too far.

You need something deeper. Something smaller. And I know exactly what that is.

You need something only Mommy can provide.

I climb into the back seat beside you and unclip your harness with a soft click, then gently lift you into my lap. You don’t resist—melting into my body, your body going heavy and loose, your arms winding around my waist like a sleepy toddler who gave up on holding it all together.

“I’ve got you, baby,” I whisper, cradling you close. “Shhh. No more fussing. Mommy knows what you need.”

Your paci slips from your mouth, falling into my lap, and a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks. Not loud or wild this time—but quiet, helpless sobbing. You’re too little to speak, too overwhelmed to ask for what you need.

But you don’t have to. Not when Mommy is here.

I shift slightly, pulling my top down and guiding you gently forward until your lips brush my breast. You hesitate for only a second—then latch on with a needy, almost broken little whimper.

“There you go,” I murmur, kissing your forehead. “Drink, sweetheart. Let Mommy help you calm all the way down.”

And you do.

Your sobs melt into soft suckling, your whole body slowly relaxing into my chest. I hold you close, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other resting protectively on your diapered bottom as I rock us gently in the quiet.

You nurse like you’ve needed this for days—slow, steady, rhythmic—like it’s the only thing in the world keeping you from falling apart again. Your tears stop. Your breathing evens out. Your hands unclench.

Every so often, you let out a soft, contented sigh around my nipple, your eyes fluttering closed, your body completely surrendered to Mommy’s arms.

You’re not just little now.

You’re gone—totally regressed, totally safe, and exactly where you belong.

And I keep holding you, nursing you gently, for as long as you need—until the world fades away, and there’s nothing left but warmth, comfort, and the quiet sound of my little one finally feeling okay again.

Photo Cred to my sweet little tater tot @destinedfordiapers

[mountainbadger]

Caregivers who completely undermine your efforts at potty training.

👖Dressing you in clothes that you need their help to take off.

🚗 Taking you on long car rides, knowing you won't make it to the next rest stop.

⌚ Saying "Just go in your diaper" when they are in a rush.

🙉 Pretending they can't hear when you say "I need to go potty".

🍬 Giving you treats or buzzies even when you use your pull-ups.

🤷‍♂️ Being indifferent on the rare occasions that you do make it on time.

🥛Making you drink a nice big glass of water before bedtime.

... You're never going to make it out of diapers. They're going to make sure of it