diaperedhawk

[diaperedhawk]

Like ALL "Betas". You chose what you felt is best.

#abdl #femdom #diaper #cuckold

[diaperedhawk]

"Watcha doing, little one? Why are you coming into my room? You know the only reason you're allowed in here is if you need your diaper changed. Are you wet?"

You propped yourself up from your hands and knees so that you could submit to Michelle's humiliating diaper check.

Michelle was your 'Big'. After several drunken disorderlies around campus, and a reputation for sleeping with (and fucking over) several girls at the dorm, you were quickly labeled as a 'problematic student'.

It happens to a lot of incoming Freshman and Sophomores. Their first few years at college, without supervision, some don't know how to handle the freedom and end up abusing it.

So, in an effort to alleviate the problem and keep the campus/dormitory looking good, a program was established to help students better transition into their adult life. These problematic students obviously weren't ready to be adults, and they must need 'parental' supervision because, without it, they apparently didn't know how to behave.

Seniors in good standing would be assigned a 'little' that needed correction. They would monitor, counsel, and sometimes punish their little to make sure they were making proper choices. But, call a spade a spade: they were basically your glorified babysitter.

The program quickly evolved, with each dorm finding more and more...successful methods of rehabilitating their peers.

The powers that be at the University simply looked the other way. After all, constantly expelling students made them look bad, they couldn't develop a reputation for constantly admitting delinquents, and hazing was something that happened all the time anyway. So, they decided to leave each dorm to their own devices.

Unfortunately for you, the device at your dorm was quite possibly the most humiliating of them all. They called it the 'Crinkle Correction'. They said it served as a way to 'start fresh', by starting you over in big, fat, crinkly diapers.

You had little choice in the matter. At only 20 years of age, the citations you received for drinking could get you expelled, or worse, put in jail. Girls around campus could file reports that you abused/assaulted them (even though you didn't), and it would ruin your reputation and any chances of landing a good job. Your only choice was to man up and take it.

"My goodness you are wet!" Michelle exclaimed. "Look how plump and puffy your pamper is!"

You flushed as you knelt in front of her, wearing nothing but your soggy diaper, feeling her grope and poke every square inch of the front in order to emphasize her point.

After she was certain that your cheeks couldn't get any redder, she placed the tip of her finger into your waistband, and gently pulled back.

"D'awww! Why is it crying?" she cooed as she peeked inside, referring to your caged cock. Michelle thought it was the perfect solution to keep you from fucking every girl on campus (as if the diapers wouldn't serve the exact same purpose), "you're leaking chastity tears!" she giggled, wiggling her hips in her sweatshirt with nothing but panties underneath. She knew it drove you crazy, she liked watching you clench your legs in an attempt to stem the flow to your crotch.

She circled you, watching you tremble. You wondered if other Bigs were as dominant as her, as demeaning, or did you get unlucky in that regard too?

"Did you go poo poo too?" she sneered in her sinister voice, circling you like a lioness around her prey.

"Y-yes ma'am..." you whimpered.

Frumpp!!

A swift kick to the back of your droopy diaper, her foot perfectly landing at the base of your balls. It wasn't her first time. You groaned and collapsed forward on your hands and knees.

"Tell me." She hissed into your ear. "Tell me what you did in your diaper."

"I went poo poo's in my pampers, Mommy!!" you whined into the floor, trying your best not to sob in front of her. She'd made you call her 'Mommy' since the first day she 'adopted' you.

"Awww!! Is that what that stench is?" She asked, as if she didn't know it as soon as you crawled in. She probably could have smelled you from down the hallway.

"Yes Mommy!!" you blubbered, losing your composure. "Sorry for stinking up your room!! B-baby needed to make a boom boom!"

It was pathetic. Pitiful. But you told yourself this was your only chance of staying in college and landing a solid career.

"Hmmm...well I'm sorry, little one, but you know I don't change dirties. You're gonna have to go find an RF for that..." But that didn't stop her from pressing her hand to your padded behind and mushing the mess into your backside while you cringed and whimpered.

RF's were 'ReFormed' students that had already made it through their semester of Crinkle Correction. Having to change dirty diapers served as a reminder of what they'd been through, and how easily they could go back if they ever decide to slip up again.

You obviously knew this. You'd had to make several crawls of shame through the hallways to one of the RF's rooms. But Michelle insisted that you come show her your filthy diapers first.

"Off you go," she said, taking the pacifier dangling from your neck and putting it back in your mouth. She smiled triumphantly, turning back to finally find some bottoms to put on.

Dismissed, you begrudgingly made your way out the door.

"Come back later, loser." she called after you. "I've got some girlfriends coming over. We'll play dress-up and turn you into a wittle baby gurl!"

As if. You thought. No way you would subject yourself to that level of humiliation! But she must have read your mind.

"If you do, and you're a good wittle pwincess, I might let you borrow my vibrator!"

God damnit. You thought. I'll be there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[diaperedhawk]

At a Party…

*Crush* - uhm hey buddy… why does your bulge look like that?

*me, playing it cool but blushing* - oh, um my pants are just kinda bulky so it looks weird I guess. Why are you looking anyway huh?

*Crush* - sweetie that’s cute but I don’t believe you, I have a feeling I know exactly what that is…

*Crush tugs my pants down* - OH MY GOD! GUYS EEVEES WEARING A FUCKING DIAPER!

*Everyone at the party looks over curious, a couple choke back a laugh*

*Crush* - uhm… I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now oh my god, you’re actually wearing a diaper! Move your hand right now, I need a better look at this. NOW loser MOVE IT.

*Crush laughing* - it’s wet!! Hahahaha aweee buddy what happened? Did you make a potty in your pants? You know this party is for grown-ups right? You must be lost, do you need me to call your mommy for you to come pick you up?

*the whole room is laughing now as I blush, holding back tears from the humiliation while I rush out of the party…*

[diaperedhawk]

All women’s clothes should be sized so at least the bottoms of our diapers are exposed!!! Boys need to be able to see when our diapers are full since obviously we can’t tell!!! I can’t even tell you the number of times a Man has asked if I had a full diaper and I confidently said nope, clean and dry! only for it to turn out to be completely soaked and loaded!!!! This is why our diapers always need to be exposed because knowing the state of our diapers is a boys job!!! Not ours!!!🤭🥰💩

[diaperedhawk]

Oral Fixation

The phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Marissa didn’t rush to pick it up. She turned another page in her book, tea cooling at her side, and let it buzz again.

She already knew what it was, didn’t need to look. She’d check it when she got bored.

Finally, after finishing another chapter or two, she scrolled through her notifications, checking them off one by one. Instagram feeds, her digital farm that needed attending, and finally her text messages.

[Image: 8:24 PM]

Hard at work. No resistance tonight. He dropped down and opened up like he’d been waiting all day.

There he was—kneeling, arms around the man’s thighs, face buried where it belonged. Hair messy, cheeks flushed, jaw working like it had purpose.

[Video: 0:17 seconds]

Eager little thing. So needy tonight. Have you not been feeding him? He latched onto my dick like he hasn’t had a bottle for days.

She watched the rhythm of her husband’s head bobbing up and down. Studied the surrender. That trance state he entered when the fixation was being fed, when his mouth finally had something real to do. She listened to the wet, slurpy sounds and the familiar glk glk glk. He didn’t gag, he’d learned to control that weeks ago. He took every inch like it fed something deep and nameless in him.

Marissa’s expression barely flickered—like she was watching a TikTok about sourdough starters. Interesting. Predictable. Nothing she hadn’t seen ferment a dozen times before.

Because this hadn’t begun with another man. It had started in her own home, with something much smaller:

A pacifier.

He’d always had a problem with his mouth. Chewing pen caps to plastic splinters. Sucking on straws long after the drink was gone. Biting his nails or the inside of his cheek until they bled.

She used to call it nerves. Later, she saw it for what it was: a compulsion. An oral fixation he never outgrew.

It was during an argument—circular, endless—that she finally snapped. Reached into a drawer, grabbed a leftover gag gift, and shoved the pacifier into his mouth.

“Try this,” she said. “Maybe it’ll shut you up.”

And it had.

He had frozen… and softened. His eyes half-lidded. His jaw slack. That need—so raw, so embarrassing—soothed by something so small.

That was the first time she saw it clearly: It wasn’t just a habit. It was a weakness.

Bottles came next. Naturally. If he was going to suck, she might as well give him something real to swallow. Warm milk, herbal blends, rich formula that slowed the flow, dragging long and heavy down his throat. The thick liquid stretched the ritual, kept his mouth busy longer. When he finally pulled away,when the last drop was spent, he was calm, quiet, and manageable.

The way she liked him.

But milk meant accidents.

It didn’t matter how grown-up he claimed to be, or how tightly he crossed his legs. Sooner or later, the warmth filled his belly and demanded a way out. First it was leaks. Then midnight runs to the bathroom. Then wet sheets.

She didn’t shame him. She didn’t have to.

She just laid a diaper out on the bed one night and said nothing. And when he stood there hesitating, she only raised an eyebrow.

“You’re the one who wanted the bottle,” she said. “It’s only fitting that a diaper go along with it..”

That was the first time.

Diapers were a natural extension. First at night. Then weekends. Then always.

He tried to hide his face as she taped it on. But after a few nights, the hesitation dulled. The rustle of plastic became normal. Expected. Necessary.

It solved the problem, and created better ones. Ones that crinkled with every step. That kept him soft, and small, and silent, almost as much as his pacifiers did.

Because after the bottles, after the toys, and now the diapers… his mouth wasn’t the only thing being trained.

The shame burned him at first. But it wore off. Crinkle by crinkle, hour by hour, he settled into it. She kept him well-padded and well-fed. Still, he fidgeted. Lingered.

That mouth always searching.

******

At first, Marissa tried to channel his fixation herself.

He’d curl up in her arms, desperate and needy, using her breasts like a pacifier—latching on, sucking, seeking comfort in the warmth she offered. She liked the closeness it brought, the way he melted beneath her touch.

She even used him between her legs. Often. Giving him a tap on the head to let him know to get to work. Gripping him by the hair, pulling him in closer, deeper. His mouth was eager, obedient, always hungry—and she took what she wanted from it.

But it still wasn’t enough. Not for him.

And eventually, not for her either.

She could only provide so much. She could only have so many orgasms before her clit was raw. She could only handle so much.

More importantly, she didn’t want to be the one constantly managing his needs. Not when they were bottomless. Not when his hunger had begun to swallow up her time, her patience, her energy.

Taking care of a needy mouth and diapers was hard work. Constant work. Bottles, bibs, feedings, checkings, changings, calming, resetting. He was always hungry. Always leaking. Always circling her for more like it was her responsibility.

She didn’t want to have to be the only one wiping his chin and checking his padding every few hours. That wasn’t dominance. That was labor.

So she handed him off—or maybe told him off. It blurred.

Either way, the message was clear:

You need more than I care to give.

And then she made sure he got it.

He needed his mouth used, worked, trained, filled. Again and again until it was exhausted. Not endlessly suckling at her breast, not circling her thighs like a starving pet.

So she made the smarter move.

She handed him off. She outsourced the mess. The noise. The handful. At first it was just to friends and sisters and babysitters, but he was too much of a burden for them even in short spurts. She only had one other option.

When she told him, his body tensed. Eyes wide. Voice small. “No… please… not that,” he begged, he cried. “I don’t want to go that far.”

But she knew better. She didn’t argue. Didn’t scold. She just waited. Because she knew: the fixation always won.

And when it inevitable did—when he was too pent-up, too twitchy, too desperate to sit still—she handed him off properly.

To men. Real men.

Men who understood what a mouth like his could be used for—and who had the patience to make him earn every drop. Men who didn’t coddle, didn’t coo, men who used him and his mouth the way it craved to be used. Not just just one man either. Multiple. A system of selectively chosen handlers to pass him around and take care of something she no longer had to handle all by herself. They didn’t just use him. They broke him down. Disciplined him. Dressed him up all pretty. Sent him home with a sore bottom—in more ways than one.

Some even changed his diapers, others didn’t bother, letting him return to her soaked and used, exactly as he should be.

She didn’t ask for details. Didn’t need to. The system worked. And she held the reins. Because control didn’t mean being the only one feeding, dressing, wiping. It meant knowing exactly who was doing it for you.

And making sure he never forgot whose rules made it all possible.

******

Tonight, he was with “Rico”.

“Rico” wasn’t a friend. Just another man in the rotation. Firm. Demanding. Dominant. Just like her slutty husband needs.

Now, nights like this were standard. She received updates from Rico like clockwork:

[8:48 PM] Already sucked my soul out twice and still hungry for more!

[9:02 PM] Keeps whining that he has to shit, but I told him I ain’t changing him. He’ll get the belt if he asks again.

[9:15 PM] Back in his mouth again. He’s humping like a needy bitch. Had to put something between his legs before he wore a hole in my carpet. You need to get him caged.

Marissa read each one with detached calm, like she was skimming a weather report.

Usually she didn’t feel the need to reply, just received updates. But she thought it would be funny to set the record straight.

[9:19 PM] You know what the pathetic part is? He already is caged! 😂

Another “fixation” she didn’t want to have to deal with…

[9:19 PM] You would know that if you ever actually changed a diaper, Rico…

[9:22 PM] Haha naw I ain’t doin no diaper duty. I may wipe his chin after he’s done sucking this dick, but I ain’t wipin no ass. That’s for damn sure.

She rolled her eyes, but still smirked. Her phone buzzed again.

[Voice Message 2:39 seconds]

*Wet, glk glk glk noises, eager mmm’ing.*

"Look at you, round three and you’re still desperate for this dick! Keep slobbering, bitch! I want it sloppy!”

*Heavy breathing, frantic slurping, crinkling in rhythm.*

Awww yea! That’s it you fucking slut! You know this is all you’re good for, right?? Just a warm mouth. A wet hole. You’re not a man. You're not even a sissy. You’re a suction toy in a wet diaper!

*High-pitched moaning, low-pitched groaning*

Is this really what you need? Is this how far you’ve sunk? This is your fix? You really can’t go a night without stuffing that needy mouth, can you? I'm just a pacifier to you. A big, meaty pacifier. You're addicted to dick!

*whimpering, sniffling, more crinkling*

Fuck yeah… right there… just like that—don’t slow down—fucking whore…keep going!

*Slurping quickens, crinkling intensifies*

Unnhh yea I'm bout to bust, take that dick down deeper! Unnhh that's it!! Ready bitch?? Here it cumss!!"

*Grunts, groans, lonngg exhale, wet sound slows, crinkling stops*

Don't you fucking swallow. Hold that shit! Show it to me! Wider! *spits* Hold that shit too! Now gargle!

*Whimpering, gargling noises*

Now thank your wife.

Ffank 'oo fow foinding me unh caock 'oo shuckk, Mooummy

Hahaha! Now swallow! Fucking pathetic ass bitch. Did you cum? Did you cum in that fucking diaper while you were being a good little cocksucker?

*Whimpers, whiny puppy sounds*

N-no sir...

Get over here, let me check. I ain't touching that diaper, but hold it open, let me see inside.

*rustling. silence for a beat.*

Holy SHIT! Is that your cage? I never seen one that small! It's flat! How do you fit in that?? Hmm..I don't see no jizz though. Good, Yo' ass would be gettin my belt if you did. God DAMN you're wet, though! All that since you got here?? You smell like straight piss! Get yo soggy ass outta here and go get me another beer!

*frantic rustling and whimpering*

[Audio Clicks Off]

She barely even listened to the clip.

It all blended together these days—mouth sounds, moans, that garbled gratitude. No video needed. She’d heard it enough times to draw the scene from memory. Pathetic, but predictable. She did like the degrading comments though. He needed them.

She downloaded all the photos. Archived the videos. The close-ups. The angles Rico liked to send. Her husband, red-faced and dripping beads of sweat and juices, lips stretched around his bulbous cock, moaning desperately while he ground his diapered hips into whatever was stuffed between his thighs like a bitch in heat.

Everything got cataloged—videos, notes, timestamps. They all went into the same folder labeled “Feeding Files”

She doesn’t keep the folder for arousal or nostalgia. Not even for blackmail, really. She rarely even watches most of them. Too many to count. It’s just inventory. A record of outsourced needs, so she doesn’t have to waste her own energy remembering when and how he was handled.

She went back to TikTok and scrolled through a few videos. Her thumb idled across the screen, skipping clips of recipes, dog videos, a woman silently organizing a kitchen drawer.

Then she paused. Frowned. Remembering she forgot something. Switched apps, checked her calendar, then went back to her messages with Rico.

[9:49 PM] "Almost forgot: hand him off to Marcus and Levi next. They got him for the rest of the night. 2-for-1 special. If he still needs to poop, let him. Marcus actually changes diapers...unlike someone I know...:P"

A small respite. Then another buzz.

[9:53 PM] Haha very funny. You want me to take him? He ain't gettin in my truck with no stank ass diaper.

[9:55 PM] He can walk. It's just a few blocks. Give him back his shirt but not his skirt.

She set her phone down, then sighed as she remembered something again.

[9:56 PM] Oh, and tell him not to moan so much when they're fucking his ass. They like it when he whines and pretends to struggle. Gets them harder that way.

[10:07 PM] He just left. Not before crouching down and dropped a massive dump first though. He was more upset that I kicked him out without a pacifier than about having to waddle out in public. Let me book him again for Saturday, I'm having a party.

She let out a quick exhale. A Mommy's job never ends. A quick swipe of her calendar told her he was already booked for Saturday, but it was just Viktor, and Viktor liked watching him beg too much to care what day it was. She would text him tomorrow to confirm a reschedule, but adjusted her calendar anyway.

[10:10 PM] Booked. I assume that means there will be more than enough…meat…to keep him satisfied?

[10:14] Oh yeah… they’ll use him up. He’ll be too milk-drunk and tongue-tied to whine for a while. Probably be walking funny until Tuesday!

That got a little smirk from her, but was quickly covered by a yawn. She tossed her phone aside. Not wanting to look at it anymore. Still, this was much easier than fixing bottles, changing diapers, and handing out teething toys for a needy 37-year-old.

She slid under the covers, enjoying the fact that she had the whole bed to herself tonight, but really it had been that way since one of the handlers (whose name she was now forgetting) put a crib in the other room for hubby. No more crinkling beside her, no more desperate gumming at a pacifier like his life depended on it. Just sleep. Blessed, uninterrupted sleep. With no wet sheets to wake up to in the morning.

She lay in bed, warm and undisturbed, phone silenced, her husband kept busy, kept used, kept away. For the first time in years, everything was managed. The whining, the need, the fixation—delegated. Outsourced. Solved.

Her life wasn’t perfect, but it was finally hers again.

And the mouth that once caused her so many problems?

Now it served her—quietly, obediently, and completely.

[diaperedhawk]

[diaperedhawk]

[diaperedhawk]

If you going to hangout with the bad girls be ready for some really kinky play. For me I have to wear a soggy wet diaper while sniffing her dirty wet diaper butt

[diaperedhawk]

“Do it you fucking pansy bitch! Hump that floor in your poopy wittle diapurr! You are so fucking pathetic, you know that? I tell you I’ll take you out of diapers and let you wear big boy undies—but you’ll have to wear a chastity device instead—and watta you do? You hump the floor in your wittle Pampers! You would rather stay in poopy diapers like a wittle fucking baby as long as it means your pathetic excuse for a dick gets to squirt every now and then!

Look at you! Such a desperate little diaper dumper! Awwww!! Did you cum? Yea? Do you feel better about yourself now that all your perverted thoughts were pumped into your pampers? Or do you feel like a fucking loser that just made all three types of messes in his diaper?! Well, sorry honey, but you made your choice. Now you have to live with it!”

[diaperedhawk]

“Turn around inmate and show your wife your uniform!”

You buried your face in your hands in shame as your wife started laughing, and all the cat-calls from the other inmates came.

“Wow! I knew you guys didn’t tolerate wife beaters,” you heard her say, “but i had no idea you made them do this…that diaper is HUGE!” She sniffed the air, “and did he…shit himself?”

“Yes your husband is quite the little diaper dumper. Most guys take a lot more of a beatdown before they’re crying and messing their diapers. But he… didn’t last long…at all…” the guard chuckled.

“Well he hasn’t ever really been much of a man anyway,” she snarled, venom dripping from her voice, “which is why I guess he felt the need to take out his misgivings on me…”

You could hear the guard grunt while you maintained your humiliating position.

“Hmm…well, trust me, he’s been getting quite the payback in here. The other inmates call him ‘Sucky’ because, well, you know what kinds of things happen in here. Turns out your husband becomes quite the little cocksucker if it will keep him from getting his ass beat!”

You cringed, trying not to whimper and cry in front of your wife, though it was doubtful she’d be able to hear you over the sound of her own cackling.

“Watch this…” you heard the guard mutter, “Hey Sucky! Do the dance they make you do!”

Your face flushed with a fresh batch of shame. You whimpered and pleaded, unperturbed by how pathetic you sounded.

“NOW, inmate!” He roared.

His gruff voice made you flinch in fear. As bad as the other inmates were to you, he could be worse, much worse.

With a hefty sigh, you rocked backward, pressing your poopy pamper into the bars of your cell, feeling the mush smush against your backside. The other inmates started catcalling again from their cells, laughing as they whistled and cheered you on, like you were some sort of stripper putting on a show as you wriggled your hips up and down the pole.

Even amidst all the cackling, the one that stuck out to you most was your wife’s. You didn’t dare turn around, not wanting to see her merciless, victorious face. You just continued your humiliating display of wriggling your hips back and forth against your pampered prison until the laughter died down and the crowd grew bored.

“So uh…you look like quite the man!” You heard your wife say, but she wasn’t speaking that seductively to you.

“Do you maybe have a room we could go to for a uh…conjugal visit?”

The guard chuckled, “oh yes ma’am, I think we could work something out.”

Her sinister tone cut like a knife, “good! And what would you say to making my husband here come watch?”

“I was thinking the same thing!”

“Wonderful! But I do have one request…”

“What’s that?”

“Can we get someone to change that disgusting diaper first?”

[diaperedhawk]

30 Minutes or Less

"Who's a baby gurll? Who's da wittle baybee gurll?!" Callie cooed, bouncing up and down in front of you, making kissy faces and rubbing her gorgeous tits. "Who is it?! Who's the cutest wittle--why are you making that face?"

You clenched your legs tight. You tried to stop it, trying everything to hold it back, but it was no use. You shamefully started spasming on the floor, diaper crinkling pitifully throughout.

Callie's eyes went wide with surprise. "Oh my gosh!" she gasped. "Did you just...?"

But she didn't give you time to stop her. To say or do anything before her hand shot to the front of your diaper. You felt the tip of her finger swirl around inside before she tugged it forward and peeked inward.

"Oh my GOD!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands to her face, horror stricken. "I... I didn't think that would happen!" she said, fluctuating between a mixture of panic and pity. "I mean...really? You just...All I do is jiggle my tits and you start spewing in your cage??!"

Your cheeks blushed a deeper pink than her shirt which was still barely containing her beautiful breasts.

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!!" she reeled, running her hands through her hair anxiously. "Does this happen all the time? Or is your wife going to be mad at me?? She specifically told me not to let you cum under any circumstances, but it's not my fault you're such a fucking loser..."

Again, there was nothing you could do or say but shrink inwards as you were overcome with post-nut shame.

"Your wife should be back from Marcus's in 30 minutes! If she finds out you made a fucking goo goo in your diaper I'm finished! I can't lose this job. It's $2,000 a week!"

Callie paced back and forth desperately, then finally stopped. "Okay, okay. We can fix this...do you have to go poo poo's?"

Even in her fit of distress she still managed to talk to you like a baybee. You gave a quick assessment of your bowel situation, and shook your head 'no'.

"Ughhh!!" she groaned, pacing again. "I'm not allowed to change you out of that sticky diaper unless you make a boom boom first!! I need you to try! Now!"

She looked at you expectantly. A little flummoxed, you eventually dropped down to your haunches.

"I don't hear anything..." she chided.

She wanted you to grunt. To make little constipation noises. So you did. But it was no use.

"God damn it! God DAMN IT!" she groaned, biting her nails and continuing to pace.

"I've got it!" she snapped, turning around and heading back to you still crouching on the floor trying to make a pushy.

"You're going to lick it out!" she smiled resolutely.

Before you could say anything she shoved you backward so that you fell on your back.

"B-but," you protested as she gently removed the tapes off the front of your diaper, making sure they stayed in tact. "But it's already--"

She held the plump pamper up, it was already soaked with piss.

"What? It's already wet?" she asked, laying the diaper flat on the floor. "That's too damn bad. You should have thought of that before you decided to blow your little loser load into your bambinos!"

You tried to argue, tried to protest, but she gripped you by the hair and jerked you over to the pissy padding.

"Please..." you whimpered, staring at the little puddle of goo streaked across the yellow runway. "I don't wanna--" but you didn't get much else out before she slammed your face down.

She held you there, warm padding pressed into your cheeks, not even that close to the puddle, so you had to wiggle your way around for air and access to the load. You wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible to end this ordeal. There was a loud crinkling next to you, then a click. Soon, you felt the cold tinge of a wipe draping across your cage and balls to clean up any sticky evidence that was still dripping out.

"Get it!" She barked, letting you breath and push your tongue along the plump padding, "All of it!" But some was soaking in, your Mommy probably wouldn't be able to tell, but you had to be sure. You actually liked Callie as your betasitter--this situation notwithstanding. She was sweeter and nicer than the rest. Also those boobs were--

The door creaked open. Neither of you had even heard your wife come in the house, but there she was, staring wide-eyed at Callie forcing her husband's face into a wet diaper.

"What is going on here?" your wife, Gina asked.

Callie released your head, looking more terrified than even you were.

"W-we w-were..." you stammered, "I...I m-mean I w-was..."

"I'm SORRY Mrs. Hoffstedder!!" Callie blurted out, close to tears. "I was just bouncing my boobs for him and he...he...he busted a nut in his diaper. But I didn't touch him! I swear! I SWEAR!"

"That's quite alright, dear," Gina said, waving her away and resting a motherly hand on her shoulder, "Calm down, it's nothing to worry about. This happens all the time."

"Really??" Callie asked with a mixture of relief and disbelief.

"Oh honey, of course!!" Gina chuckled, "I mean, he's a beta, honey! Beta's can't help themselves. Their little pinpricks spurt all the time under the slightest of stimulations. It's why they're caged and diapered in the first place! You did nothing wrong, dear."

"So you're not going to fire me??" Callie sniffled.

"Fire you? Of course, not!" Gina cackled, "If anything, I oughta give you a raise! Allen would probably have no problem paying you $2,500 a week if it means he gets to make number 3's at the sight of your beautiful breasts, babe!"

Callie exhaled the biggest sigh of relief, deflating and relaxing a little. "That's so great! Thank you so much!"

"Don't mention it, sweetheart." Gina smiled, then turned back to you. "Now...speaking of accidents..."

She pulled out something she had behind her back the whole time. It was a large, magnum-sized condom, containing a rather large load of spunk.

"Marcus made a number 3 too!" she grinned, grabbing the end of the condom, turning it over, and squeezing the contents out over your freshly licked diaper, making another white, gooey runway strip across. "Beta baybeez always make stickies in diapers. But it's not every day the jizz of a real man ends up in there! Perhaps you should clean his up to. Or would you rather wear it around with you? Callie and I would love to put this diaper back on you, wouldn't we dear?"

New tumblr! Follow me here, Subscribestar, or Allmylinks to stay updated!

Another random place too: @wittle5i55ybaby Just in case.

[diaperedhawk]

hey please Show a morning diapi

<3

Good morning!

[diaperedhawk]

[diaperedhawk]

“So you mean to tell me that all of this doesn't bother you? That you really don’t mind being a sissy baby?!”

“Honestly? I HATED it at first. The diapers, the chastity, the pig tails, the makeup, and all that. But, eventually…i learned to like it. I mean, think about it! We never have to worry about where a restroom is, we don’t have any grownup responsibilities other than our chores, and we spend our days getting dominated by two very hot women! Most guys would KILL for this kind of lifestyle!

“But what about all the cocks we have to suck? All the cum we have to eat? And all the diapers we have to dirty?”

“Oh come on! Sucking dick isn’t that bad! Especially once you get better at it! You’ve got to admit is does feel kind of nice when a guy cums in your mouth! It means you look hot and fuckable, that you're doing a good job, even if it is something as taxing as a blow job. The taste of cum and the feel of a dirty diaper is just something you'll just have to get used to. It’s all about your mindset! If you keep thinking about how you’re a slave and everything sucks and is so humiliating, then you’re going to be miserable! You have to learn to look on the bright side of things and learn to enjoy it!”

“I guess...but don’t you wish we could still cum? I don’t know about you, but my balls are constantly aching for release…”

“Oh honey, you just haven’t learned how to cum with a chastity device still on!"

"What? That's possible?!"

"Mhmm!! It’s called a sissygasm! Here, grab your favorite dildo, I'll show you how it’s done! And you’re going to cum twice as hard as you ever did before!!”

[diaperedhawk]

Inevitable

[diaperedhawk]

"What's the matter?" Stephanie asked, coming back upstairs. "Everyone's here, it's time for brunch. Why are you taking so long to get out of bed?"

Oh shit. I forgot people were coming over today. I slept in, but that wasn't why I was taking a while to get up. Right as I slipped from dream space and back into reality, my brain eventually woke up enough to realize something was wrong.

Stephanie read my face almost instantly. "It happened again, didn't it?" she sighed. Giving me that accusatory, exasperated look.

I clutched the sheets to my shoulders. But that was way too obvious. I shouldn't have done that.

She ripped the blankets down, tearing them from my grip.

"Well..." she said, sighing and somewhat smiling to herself, almost as if she expected this.

I tried to turn away, to hide my stained undies, but there was no hiding the little puddle soaked into the sheets.

"Another wet dream?!" She exclaimed incredulously.

It was my 3rd one this week. They'd been happening more and more lately. It wasn't too much of an inconvenience. It was just extremely embarrassing, and Stephanie liked to press the issue.

"You really can't control yourself, can you??"

"It's not my fault!" I whined, trying to salvage some dignity in my soaked, sticky boxers. "You've had me locked up for weeks! And your teasing isn't helpin--"

"Oh don't try to blame this on me!" She scoffed, smirking, "You wanted this. You wanted to do this whole 'chastity play' thing. You told me not to let you out no matter how much you beg. I'm just going by what you said..."

I scrunched up my face. She was right. I hated that she was right. This was literally what I asked for, but it sounded way more fun in my head...

But I also didn't think she would take to it so quickly. She really seemed to enjoy teasing me. Giving me little tickles in the crotch as I walked by. Whispering seductive, dirty things in my ear while we were out at dinner. Even taking the cage off every now and then to edge me several times before putting ice cubes to it so she could stuff it back in. It was torture, she knew it, and she loved it.

"Besides..." she continued, "why would I need to unlock you when you're getting plenty of release into the sheets?

I pouted at that, but there wasn't much I could retort with.

"Well..." she sighed, pulling her hair hair up to tie it back. "I think you know what this means..."

It could mean any number of things. When the hair went up, it was her entering 'dominant' mode.

"You're gonna have to go back in diapers."

My stomach plummeted. Diapers?? Not those again...

"I'm sorry," she said, reading my face, not sounding sorry at all, "but this is not the first time you've been having accidents in bed. Remember what happened after New Year's?"

I remember. Of course I remember. She wouldn't let me forget it. I got a little too drunk to the point that I was incoherent enough to miss the entire countdown. The next day, I woke up to wet sheets. She was furious, not just about the piss-stained linens, but the fact that I neglected her almost the whole night.

For the rest of that week, I had to spend the night in a big pair of fluffy adult diapers. I didn't know they made them that big, or that childish.

"Honey please..." I begged, "Don't you think this is a little excessive...?"

"Absolutely not." She said firmly. "Until you can learn to control yourself better, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have to wear diapers all day in case you have another 'accident'!"

I winced at the words. "All day??"

"Yes." She said, "As in 'daylight'. Night time too. I'd much rather wake up to your wet diaper than to wet sheets."

My mind was reeling, but apparently the matter was decided because she headed to the closet. Her ponytail swished back and forth as she dug through. Finally, she found what she was looking for. She held the ridiculous white, crinkly diaper up with a huge smile.

"It's diapy time!!" she cooed.

"But Steph!" I whined as she yanked my sticky boxers down, and lifted my legs up by the ankles so she could slide the diaper underneath.

"You just said everyone is downstairs!!"

"Mhmm.." she said, pulling the diaper up over my cage. "What's your point?" she asked, taping up each side.

"They're...they're..."

"I'll let you wear pants." She said, reading my thoughts. "But if you keep whining, I'll send you down there in nothing but your diaper and a t-shirt."

That shut me up real quick. She finished taping up the diaper, making several passes to ensure it was nice and tight, tucking in the folds to ensure there wouldn't be leaks. I tested the bulk, cringing at how loud they were between my legs.

"Try not to move to much," she smirked, "You don't want them to hear the crinkles, do you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New tumblr! Follow me here, Subscribestar, or Allmylinks to stay updated!

Another random place too: @wittle5i55ybaby Just in case.

[diaperedhawk]

“Open. Open! Ahhh!”

I find that nothing regresses a man-baby quite like putting a pacifier in their mouth. It tells them that their words mean nothing. Their pathetic little pleas don’t matter. Their silly little thoughts are moot. All while keeping them mute.

It forces them to internalize what’s going on. In addition to the sight, sound, smell, and feel of the diaper they’re about to wear, we take over their final sense. With every whimpering breath they take, the little rubber bulb rubs over their tongue. They can taste the latex, feel the shield press against their lips as the diaper closes over their hips. The soft, whimsical tunes playing in the background beneath your milky, matronly voice telling them how adorable and pathetic they look. Everything coming together to make them feel like a wimpy wittle baybee.

They can try to deny it all they want, but it’s hard to make a strong argument when there’s a big fat pacifier in their mouth! Binky your baybees, girls!!