eclaire010 - Tumblr blog

[eclaire010]

what are you laughing at? what does it say 😟

[eclaire010]

Let me gush on why I think diapers are the ultimate tool for control.

It's a status symbol: this is the easiest to explain. You look at a little and know immediately they are not on the same level of you. This padded excuse for underwear shows that the person wearing it is not to be treated as an adult and is to be treated like they do not have the ability to work a toilet let alone handle any responsibilities.

It's a physical barrier: a diaper literally puts a barrier between the little's genitalia and anything that they might want, such as pleasure, the dignity to use the toilet, hell even the ability to clean themselves properly. Just some plastic and fluff keep can be so restrictive.

"functional" clothing: not only does a diaper look and feel like a tool for control but also act the part. It's a container for one of the most humbling liquids on the planet. It also has a hidden purpose of being able to be written on. Even the most basic of diapers can be a powerful tool when used to contain the piss of someone who claims to be an adult

Dependence: there is almost no other kink tool that can be used quite like a diaper to make your little depend on you. It literally has to be acknowledged every 4 to 12 hours. It also often has to be checked, talked about, and changed. If you truly want to make someone dependent on you, make it so they have to come to you to be changed. They will feel your presence with every step they take.

[eclaire010]

You wear diapers now. So it only makes sense that you wear clothes with snaps so I can check and change you easier. Plus it helps hold up your sagging pampers that you’re constantly dribbling in. I know you think it’s babyish but when you wet your pants like a toddler this is what you get.

[eclaire010]

The Sound of Silence

The silence is so delicious I want seconds. Maybe thirds. Delicious, beautiful silence.

She was so confident. Loudly denying she would need her diaper. That I was just being dramatic.

As if she had any control left.

It was too easy. So easy I almost feel bad that she’ll be trapped in diapers for the rest of her life. Almost.

She may whine and complain, but deep down she knows she’s a diaper girl. She knows her life is better when she’s wrapped in her thick, thirsty diapees, begging me to change her. The potty is for grown ups, not her.

And she is not a grown up. She never was, no matter how many times she says she is—or was. Grown ups don’t fill their diapers with pushies hours after screaming she could hold it.

Grown ups don’t submit so meekly to diaper checks, dutifully pulling their pants down so Daddy can inspect their diaper. And grown ups definitely don’t fill their diaper with stinkies as often as her!

“Uh oh, looks like my little peanut’s diapee is mushy! What is my precious buttercup hiding in there?”

There it is. That silence. That beautiful, tasty silence. It turns my legs to jelly. It’s unfathomably cute.

The only thing that would make it better would be getting to see the utter defeat on her face. The humiliation. The shame. To see her realize she truly is the diaper girl I molded her into.

But I’ll settle for watching her squirm on the changing table. She’s always so cute when I unwrap the present she left for me in her diaper, as the smell dominates the room, proof of who she is.

Daddy's diaper girl.

[eclaire010]

one way to condition your little girl into loving diapers is to put her in double diapers!

she’ll love the feeling of her legs constantly being a little bit spread as she waddles around, and the layers of plush fabric will rub against her princess parts so nicely that she won’t help but get frustrated when she wears them!

remind her of how little she is — that she has to wear two diapers just because daddy said so. maybe she’s had more accidents as of late, maybe you just want to keep the little pamper packer in her place 💕 either way, its not up to her!

[eclaire010]

Aww <3 What happened sweetie? Where did all of that confidence go? Was being spanked and diapered really all it took for you to drop that silly girlboss act? 💕🌷

[eclaire010]

Sinking Into Submission

You're an adult, a grown woman, but you don't want to be; we both know that. You want to be a little girl. You want all those silly big girl privileges taken away, even if you'd never admit it. Because admitting it would mean admitting you failed at adult life. Taking on responsibilities and meeting expectations was too much for you. You couldn't handle it. You never could. And yet, despite that, here you are, wishing you could go back and undo it all. But you can't. You're trapped.

It all started with some harmless fun. You saw it online: videos of girls wetting themselves, soaking their jeans and leggings. Sometimes even in public. You wanted to try it but knew you weren't brave enough to do it in front of anyone. You even tried to resist the urge at first, but it grew and grew, and before long, you were desperate to feel the wetness against your little "princess parts," as you'd taken to calling them.

So you put on an old pair of leggings and stood in the shower with your phone propped up and aimed at you. You were recording a video for a guy you'd met online. He'd encouraged you to give in to this strange desire of yours. He made you feel accepted, less alone, and incredibly desired. You wanted to please him. You'd do anything to please him, even if that meant giving in to your naughty fantasies of pissing yourself like a toddler failing at potty training.

The warmth trickled into your panties and spread out over your thighs, and within a second, you knew you were addicted. Your shower wettings grew increasingly more common until you worked up the nerve to piss yourself in bed like a "good girl," as your now boyfriend put it. "Boyfriend," the word felt so out of place, as you'd even taken to calling him Daddy, despite how naughty it felt. Each time you used the title, you felt like you were pleasing him and being his good little kiddo, but you were also pleasing something profound within yourself, a longing you never realized needed to be fulfilled.

After pissing your sheets every few days, you put a mattress protector on your bed like a responsible bedwetter. It pleased Daddy, and you liked pleasing him after all. But then, before long, without even meaning to, you started waking up with wet sheets. You hadn't meant to wet in your sleep; you just couldn't help it. And that made the accidents all the blushier. You knew Daddy wouldn't stand for it, but you had to tell him. He didn't like you keeping secrets, as you were too little to keep such thoughts to yourself. So reluctantly, you told him, with your cheeks burning red and a quiver in your voice.

Daddy wasn't angry. He was kind and sweet and spoke with a reassuring tone that eased the chaotic waves crashing against the edges of your mind. You sunk deeper into a babyish state, where all your thoughts seemed to disappear into oblivion. The only things there were you and Daddy, the only things that mattered.

When he told you he couldn't allow you to keep having accidents at night, your cheeks burned hot again, but you still offered a meek nod. Daddy knew best, after all. And he wouldn't steer you wrong. So, within the week, you were back in pull-ups at night. A few months prior, you didn't even know they made them for girls your age. But you still followed the pages of those girls online, the ones whose wetting videos stirred up your interest in the whole scene. And you saw them wearing cute designs that, deep down, you longed to try.

Daddy must have sensed this. After all, he read you so well. Together, you bought several designs, all uniquely humiliating in their own ways. Daddy would pick out a pull-up for you each night, and you'd wear it without complaint. And increasingly, you'd wake up in the mornings with wetness between your legs despite drifting off to sleep still dry the night before.

The further you sunk into your pathetic state of bedwetting, the more your bladder gave in. Before long, you weren't having any dry nights. And your wettings grew increasingly intense as if your bladder had entirely given up on holding it throughout the night. You'd wake up in soaked sheets with a leaky pull-up, and Daddy would comfort you and tell you it would all be alright and that you were still his good little girl.

He no longer treated you like anything resembling an adult. He treated you like a helpless little girl or like a pet to play with and tease. He'd change your pull-ups, pick out your undies and clothes, and help you dress each day, even though you'd swear you could do it yourself. He'd simply laugh and say, "Of course you can't, baby girl. That's what Dada's here for." He spoke in that loving tone you'd fallen for. Whenever he used it, you were powerless to fight against it.

One day, you came home from work after a long day only to find a pack of diapers sitting atop your freshly changed sheets. Not pull-ups, but diapers. They had babyish prints and were made for "little girls" your size. You'd seen other girls wearing them but swore you'd never sink that far. You promised yourself you wouldn't. You confronted Daddy with a stern pout and crossed arms, but he just smiled and called you adorable.

"No! I'm not adorable. I'm mad," you said with a humph and an even fuller pout.

Daddy rose from his office chair, walked over, and wrapped his arms around you. "It's alright, baby girl. You don't have to pretend anymore. Dada's here, he's got you, and he sees you. You aren't alone anymore, and I'll love you no matter what kind of protection you need."

You leaned into his embrace with tears welling in your eyes. You hid them in his chest and quietly sniffled into his form, feeling the weight of his acceptance envelop you like a warm blanket on a snowy winter's day.

From then on, you wore your diapers every night. Dada would change you into them each night when it was time to get ready for bed. Dada's changies were the highlight of your evenings. He treated you with gentle hands and soft-spoken care. And he managed the diaper tapes far better than you ever could. You'd fall asleep each night in his arms, feeling like the little girl you longed to be, with Dada there to always love and protect you.

Before long, you started wearing your diapers earlier in the evenings and even all day whenever you didn't have to work. Dada was always there to change you and kiss your forehead when you had doubts and regrets. But soon enough, the daytime accidents began. At first, they were contained only to your diapers. You didn't mind that so much, but there was a hint of fear somewhere beneath your feigned confidence. What if you started having accidents outside of diapers? Or at work, around people?

Your fears were well-founded. The first time you wet at the office, it was just enough to show on your pants, but you managed to scurry to the bathroom before anyone could notice. You texted your boss to tell her you were sick, then darted out of the office when no one was around to see your pathetic, childish state.

You sobbed all the way home. You had no one to blame but yourself. Even Dada, though he encouraged you, was simply giving you what you wanted, and you knew that. This was all the result of your decisions and stupid, misplaced desires. You had to do something to fix it.

You stopped wearing your diapers, both day and night. Dada asked you time and time again if you were sure, but you insisted. It had to be done, you thought. It was the only way to regain what little semblance of control you could still have. But the accidents didn't stop. You still woke up with wet sheets each and every night, and your daytime accidents grew increasingly common.

First, you wet yourself at the store while out shopping for groceries. You completely soaked your jeans, and it was impossible to hide it. You felt a deep sense of shame permeating your entire body as you walked through the aisles, knowing the wandering eyes of the other shoppers continued finding their way to you and your distinct wet spot.

The following few accidents were at home, on the furniture no less. Daddy refused to clean up after you. He insisted you at least wear pull-ups to stop staining the couches and carpets, but you declined. And so you were left to clean up your messes alone, only to know that you'd be doing it again soon enough. Daddy even said if you refused to wear diapers, he'd have to start putting plastic covers on the furniture, making you feel even more like an unhouse-trained puppy.

The breaking point was when you finally wet yourself again at work. You were giving a presentation in front of the whole board. You even wore a pull-up out of fear of this exact thing happening, though you never would have let Daddy know. But as you stood there giving your presentation, and the anxiety rushed through your veins as all eyes were on you, you felt yourself filling your padding. You felt your pee soak every inch and find its way into the leg gathers before overflowing into your favorite pair of work pants, just light enough to do nothing to hide your accident.

You heard gasps from the board behind you as you stared at the screen where your presentation still played. Your boss ran up to you and ushered you out of the room. There was nothing you could say to her. No explanation would suffice. She looked at you with such thorough disappointment, and when you finally went to speak, she interrupted you and told you to go home, that you'd embarrassed yourself and her enough for the day.

You made the walk of shame to your car, passing by the unmasked whispers and snickering from your co-workers. Word traveled fast in corporate offices, it seemed. They sounded like gossiping schoolgirls. You sat down in your luxury car and felt your pull-up squish beneath you, letting out more pee into your expensive seats. You sat there and cried for thirty minutes before mustering the courage and motivation to drive home.

When you arrived, Daddy was already sitting on the couch, now draped in plastic, waiting for you to return. "Your boss called," he said. You couldn't meet his eyes but felt his glare as it interrogated your entire body. "Enough is enough," he said. He stood up, and in one swift motion, he'd grabbed you, pulled your pants and pull-up down to around your knees, and bent you over his lap. The tears started before the stings began, for you knew precisely what was coming. And you'd earned it.

With each slap against your ass, you felt what little dignity you still had slipping away, further and further out of reach, to where you would never obtain it again. You sobbed like a child who knew she'd done wrong, and you could no longer claim to be anything more, no matter how much you wished to. When your spanking was finished and your cheeks burned red hot, Daddy lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom.

As you entered the room, you saw a diaper on the bed beside a bottle of baby powder. It had been there, waiting for you, as if you could hear it beckoning for you to come closer. You no longer had the energy or the will to fight, so you merely cried into Daddy's shoulder until he laid you on the already-open diaper. He removed your wet pants and pull-up from around your knees and wiped your princess parts until you were all clean. He powdered you, and when he rubbed it into your skin, it felt like ecstasy pumping through you, numbing your empty brain even further.

After taping you into your diaper and ensuring the fit was snug, he looked down at you, with tears still dripping down your face. He said in a hushed but firm tone, "You will be wearing these from now on, little girl. I don't want to hear any complaints. If I have to spank you again, I will." And that was that. There was nothing to argue anymore. You had turned yourself into a full-fledged adult baby, and there was no longer anything you could do about it. The last flicker of a flame within you burned away to nothing but ashes in the wind, and you accepted your fate. As you looked up at Dada, you knew you'd be back in diapers for a long, long time.

[eclaire010]

Oh my little angel, I don’t think you realize what you’re asking.

I want you to finally be potty trained so we can get you out of pull-ups. You really think you need to go BACK to wearing diapers? And 24/7?

I don’t think you understand what that means. No we aren’t going to play at it. There is no trial run. There isn’t any deciding you don’t like it and going back. If you need diapers, you’ll be in diapers.

Every pair of big girl panties in your drawers? Thrown out. You’ll never need them again. We will fill your dressers with the necessary diapers, inserts, powders and creams.

When you need to pee? You will just go, right then and there. When you need to mess? You will squat down and grunt and push, right there no matter who is around. Doesn’t matter where we are or what we are doing, your only choice is using your diaper. There are no asking for changes. Only babies where diapers 24/7 and daddy decides when you get changed.

You will forget what a toilet is. You’ll get so used to the bulk between your legs, you’ll forget what it’s like to not be in your padded prison.

The only times you’ll be a nakey baby is when you are getting a necessary bath, or those brief interludes when you’re going from a stinky wet diaper to a fresh new one.

Oh no, you absolutely don’t get sex anymore. I don’t want to be inside someone who needs diapers every day and every night. You don’t get that privelege. If you get lucky enough to be allowed to cum, it’ll be in your diaper, and only one that’s used. Orgasms don’t seem like something necessary for a padded princess like yourself.

Everyone will know. Between your waddling, the crinkling, the smell of powder or worse, I don’t see how your new state could be disguised. If you are capable of finding it? Well I’ll also be checking you regardless who might be around. If you’re consistently diapered up I can’t risk you getting a rash. That’s much more important than trying to keep your little predicament a secret.

Also, let’s not forget your room would give away any hints you’re pathetic self didn’t already. The diaper pail, the changing table, all the necessities of a 24/7 baby.

Now, I don’t know what we will do about going to the pool or the beach, I’m not sure the make swimming diapers for a girl your size but I certainly don’t trust a full time pissy pants in a bikini. Maybe that’s one more consequence of this decision.

What? You’re rethinking this? That’s unfortunate because as we’ve been talking about it I really started to feel like maybe you do need to be a little 24/7 diaper dependent baby. Let’s go put on one of the few diapers you DO have and go to the store. We have a lot of shopping to do…

[eclaire010]

“It’s all your fault,” she sniffled.

“Now, now, pumpkin. It’s not fair to blame daddy because you had an accident, is it?”

“But…but you wouldn’t let me go to the potty.”

“That’s not true, sweetie. I just said you had to hold it a little longer, and you couldn’t. You had an accident just like a little baby.” She whimpered at that, tucking her face into their chest and sniffling louder. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Please don’t, daddy. Please!” She directed her best pouty lip in their direction, but they just smiled, far more amused than sympathetic–the meanie–and kissed her.

“But pumpkin, what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t keep you all safe and protected in a nice, dry diaper? Come on now, no fussing from you, little girl. Daddy’s doing this for your own good.”

[eclaire010]

Yawning is so contagious

(Source)

[eclaire010]

I dont want to have to be changed like a stupid baby 🥺

[eclaire010]

🤣

I can’t even handle this diaper butt camel toe (???) What do we even call this?

[eclaire010]

It's fun being an independent, strong, sexy woman. It's delightful to see men and women being attracted to my confidence, my tattoos, my career and resolved personality.

But you know what I think it's more fun????

Being a completely controlled and nurtured adult baby that isn't able to make any decision on my own (not because I can't but because I'm not allowed)

Or at least that's how my mind is ^^

~ angelchan 🩷

[eclaire010]

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I’m sure other girls your age are having their diapers changed by their daddies too”

[eclaire010]

Bedwetting is the cutest. You’re just too much of a sleepyhead, too snuggled up, too cozy and content in dreamland to even think about waking up when your little bladder is full. But don’t worry about it. Accidents happen and Daddy will get you all cleaned up in the morning. And then we’ll have a little talk about how Daddy thinks it best that we put you back into diapers at bedtime.

[eclaire010]

“Daddy please I’m a big girl I can use the toilet” I pleaded about to soak my diaper

“Big girls wouldn’t be in diapers in the first place, now stop complaining or you’ll be over my knee”

[eclaire010]

Domesticated, diapered, and disciplined kitten 🐾🎀🧷

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