jadeywadey45

[jadeywadey45]

last week i learned the hard way not to touch my diapers without permission >~<

[jadeywadey45]

CHAPTER 7: Denial

Your diaper cuck will occasionally try to denounce their love for their diapers. Tummy Time™️ is advised when she starts fussing and stating that she hates her thick pampers. The rocking of her hips will instantly betray her. If you’ve trained her well then she has been conditioned to only achieve her cummies this way. If not refer back to earlier chapters. Be sure to have her begin to recite her mantras before she is allowed her release, you have figured out the exact soul crushing phrase that she only dare utter when she is absolutely desperate and will admit anything. It is best practice to film her during these instances so you can remind her next time she tries to fib and tell you she doesn’t love being a giant baby in thick diapers. Stay vigilant and follow these rules and you’ll have your dream diaper cucky before you know it. Continue on to the next chapter where we discuss Hypnotic Audios for Passive Reinforcement

[jadeywadey45]

Cuckquean diaper hood ideas :

Taping the diaper around your cucks face and drawing a big smiley mouth on the tape so everyone knows how much she loves her pissy diapers all over her face (alternatively, letting your lover do this to the cuck..)

Gagging your cuck with your lovers wet panties before wrapping her diaper around her head

Taping a picture of your lover’s face over your cuck’s dumb diaper face

Securing the diaper to her head by tying it in a stupid little bow under her chin

Referring to your cuck as you and your lovers little peepee head.

Writing mean and embarrassing things all over her diaper hood for you and your lover to laugh at (bonus points because cuckie won’t know what you wrote until it’s taken off, if you even let her see then, letting her know also you and your lover snapped some great pix beforehand.) Hoods are so dehumanizing as is, but now that you’ve turned her into a faceless pisshead, replace her identity with whatever you and your lover like for that day and write it all over her diaper hood.

Calling for her to come to you while she’s blindfolded by her own piss. Mocking and laughing at her when she runs into something or goes the wrong way or falls over. Asking her what’s so hard about it and encouraging her that it might be easier if she just crawls.

Making her beg and plead to be hooded during you and your lovers intimate time, in effect training her to be turned on by the smell of her used padding and to desire being your depraved, nasty little bitch. Make her admit how much she loves it and prefers to be this way, how much lower she sinks when like this.

If/when a used diaper/pull up can’t be used, pull your lovers panties over her head, maybe even multiple pairs, maybe secure them all in place with a pair of panty hose tied in an adorable bow under her chin. Letting her know how stupid and clueless she looks wearing your girlfriend’s underwear on her head like that.

Refer to it as her princess crown, and invite your lover over unannounced while your little cuckie princess prances around with her used pull ups on her head. Sneak into her playroom taking videos as shes lost in play with her idiotic crown on. Grab her attention as you and your lover stand there filming, and tell her to wave to the camera for mommy and dada!

If cuckie leaks in the night, rub her face in those piss soaked sheets in front of your lover before you tape her sodden diapers around her head. Tell your lover it’s your cuck’s bedwetting hood of shame.

Above all, make her behave as though she genuinely enjoys it and likes it and wants it. She better be laughing and smiling and begging hard for it. Enforce gratitude when she’s hooded, you and your lover want to hear how thankful she is to you both for making her into your stinky, gross, undesirable, little peepee head.

[jadeywadey45]

You lean there against the bars of your crib, despondently contemplating your future. Hair done up in the most adorable pigtails, the prettiest and cutest onesie imaginable snugly wrapped around you, your thick and now ever-present diaper swaddling your groin… Yes, you are quite the sight. You know it. Auntie reminds you of it every day, after all…

A sigh escapes you as you meditate on the life choices that have led you to this unexpected place. Not every twenty-three-year-old young woman expects to be reliving her infancy! Normally, folks finish college and find a job so they can settle down, maybe find someone special, pay off those hideous student loans, and get on in life. Well… that’s the plan, anyway. But when a job isn’t forthcoming, and you’ve got no family to rely on… It’s tough.

Into that darkness had suddenly come Auntie’s offer. She was not really an aunt - more of a friend of your parents before they’d passed away - but she did seem to have a soft spot in her heart for you. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty obscenely wealthy, either. So when she’d offered to help you out if you could only come live with her and help with her home business as a personal secretary, you’d jumped at the chance. Maybe fairy godmothers - or at least super generous aunties - really were a thing! At any rate, you had nothing to lose, right?

Well, maybe you did, you reflect now, feeling yet another warm spurt of urine wash into the reassuring padding between your legs. Sure, Auntie was taking care of your student loans, waving a bank account number and magically making them disappear. But she, indulgent as ever, had also begun to buy you clothes and furniture that seemed decidedly out of keeping with your age. It wasn’t every young college graduate that had footie pajamas, sparkly princess shirts, and a bed with a built-in railing, was it? The pattern had progressed over the months, and you’d kept your mouth shut, not wanting to appear ungrateful to the woman who had literally given you a financial future…

Until the day when she’d brought home a onesie and shortall set with snaps in the crotch, and had begun cooing over how cute you’d look in it. You’d timidly asked the rather rhetorical question: did she want you to look like a baby? And when she’d unexpectedly told you, yes, she kind of did, the real discussion had begun. She’d always wanted a child of her own, she sadly smiled, and you were the closest thing she’d ever had to a daughter. Couldn’t she at least pretend that you were her little girl? It would mean so very much to her…

Well, the power dynamic being what it was, you’d been completely and utterly unable to say no.

So here you were, a full year into your new job with Auntie. It had been six months at least since you’d even touched the big girl potty - six months that had been filled with little more than bottle-feedings and high chairs, bulging diapers and smelly diaper pails, a doting Auntie and you as her increasingly dependent baby girl. You felt your big girl life steadily slipping away, all the exciting knowledge and ideas from college drifting ever more certainly into the past… You were Auntie’s “secretary” now - more like her office baby, whose only remaining job was to waddle and crawl around and put the wadded-up papers one by one into the trashcan. It was a mind-numbing routine, but admittedly a seductively simple and comfortable one. No phone calls or meetings or appointments like Auntie had - just your familiar carpet and toys and ba-bas to keep you company… It could be worse, couldn’t it?

And as you felt the familiar pressure building in your tummy, you sighed again, releasing the now-familiar wave of soft, warm mush easily and steadily into your expanding diaper, followed by the involuntary flood of pee afterwards. Well, whatever. You didn’t get upset over such things anymore. Auntie would change her stinky baby sometime soon. It didn’t matter much anymore, after all - you were wet or dirty most of the time these days. Maybe that was the real trade-off, you mused as your diaper slowly sagged underneath your adorable onesie. Trading your dignity and independence for a secure future…

Was it worth it? You honestly didn’t know… But even if you did, you probably couldn’t have done a thing to change it. Not anymore.

Image Credit: Ageplay247.com

Please keep my caption intact if reblogging; as long as you do, may the dust bunnies under your furniture magically disappear.

[jadeywadey45]

“Aww, what a sweet little thing!” Mona cooed, thrusting the bottle nipple deeper between Rose’s reluctantly parting lips. “I know you must be aching for this, aren’t you? Just longing for your Mommy dearest to force this entire big bottle of special formula into her little baby’s belly?” Rose gulped - both in trepidation and to avoid choking on the sickening taste of the “formula” that was flowing all too quickly into her mouth. Oh, how different all this was from what she’d fantasized…

She’d never wanted anyone at the office to know her kinky little quirks. Not even her girlfriends knew about her infantile side, let alone coworkers - so though in the deepest reaches of her fantasies the face of that bold, assertive IT specialist named Mona might have occasionally appeared, she’d had absolutely no intention of ever even hinting about her kinky side to any of her associates. She’d worn Goodnites to work once, but the crinkle, subtle as it was, had been enough to set her paranoid nerves on edge for days.

Since then she’d been discreet - or at least, she thought she’d been. That is, until she’d accidentally texted a link to her private Tumblr to Mona, of all people. God, she’d never forget that feeling - that sickening lurch in her stomach when she saw Mona respond with a “WTF?🤣”. Oh, she’d tried to patch it up, say it was a joke, something stupid she’d seen online…but Mona was far too sharp. “Something tells me you’re actually kind of into that sort of thing,” she’d grinned in the cafeteria the next day. “You wouldn’t devote an entire blog to it otherwise, duh. So…” she’d smirked, toying with her latte. “I’m sure you’d hate for news of your little, ahem, habits to get out, wouldn’t you?”

The long and short of it was that Mona, who’d always seemed like a bit of a bitch before, had let Rose know in no uncertain terms that if her silence was to be bought, the price would be participating in the kinky fun that Rose had so nicely outlined in her blog. In other words, she was going to be Rose’s Mommy Domme. Whether Rose said she wanted it or not didn’t matter to Mona; clearly she did, and Mona - who indeed always had her own deviously kinky streak - thought it would be fantastic fun.

“Look how sweet and pathetic you look, you big baby,” she exclaimed now in satisfaction, surveying Rose’s kneeling, humiliated figure. She’d just got done dressing the poor girl in double-thick and double-boostered Princess diapers, babyish tights, and the most infantile pink baby dress imaginable. And of course, all that was after she’d slipped three whole suppositories up Rose’s bum.

“Such an absolute baby! I’d say you’re far too big to still be in diapers, honey… But then again, it’s exactly what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it? You’ve been fantasizing and posting online about how hot it would be for a Mommy to force you into diapers… So that’s precisely what you get! Besides, honey, only big girls who keep their panties nice and dry and clean are allowed to graduate out of diapers. And somehow, I really don’t think you’re going to be able to keep those diapers clean, are you?”

As the burning deep within Rose’s bottom intensified, she blinked back a few tears - and gulped again at her formula. She had no idea what Mona had slipped into her bottle this time, but based on past experiences, it was only likely to make her bladder and bowel control even more…problematic. But what could she do? She couldn’t let Mona expose her in front of her supervisor, her coworkers, the CEO…right?

She gulped again, feeling the now-uncontrollable spasms in her sphincter leaking the first messy drops into the seat of her pillowy diaper. Some fantasy this was turning out to be! Careful what you wish for, she mused as her gut cramped in pain once more. You just…might…get it.  

Image Credit: ABDreams.com

Please keep my caption if reblogging; as long as you do, may all those pesky dust bunnies under your furniture magically disappear.

[jadeywadey45]

New Jacket

I open the car door but stand in your way, blocking you from sliding out, knowing that once your sneakers are on the ground it’s going to be too late to corral your building excitement.

“Tell me the rules, sweetie.”

You pause in place and look up at me, your thumb headed toward your mouth, your bright eyes locked with mine.

“I gotta hold your hand when you says so,” you say softly.

“Mmhm,” I nod approvingly. “Keep going.”

“Don talk wif strangers,” you continue. “Don touch nuffin’ that not mine.”

“And?” I prompt, reassuringly.

You start to cover your face with your hands, hoping I won’t notice the blush spreading there, hoping I’ll let you out without saying this last bit out loud. I gently pull your hands down into your lap. “And?” I prompt again, softer this time, encouraging.

“An I gotta tell you if I needs ta potty,” you say so quiet I almost can’t hear you, your eyes unable to meet mine.

“That’s right, honey. We’re going in there to buy you a nice cold weather coat! Daddy doesn’t want to have to buy you new pants if you have another accident.”

Your cheeks are turning red now with the memory of pissing your pants at the movie theater last week, and now you’re wiggling and twisting in your car seat. “Daddy it was one time! I’m a big girl now!” you pout in feeble protest, your lips turning down as if you’re going to start crying any second.

I know better. “How bad do you need to go right now, honey?”

Her pout starts to shift into an indignant frown; the little girl act slips ever so slightly and I catch my wife of fifteen years starting to leak through at the edges. “I pottied before I left the house, Daddy! I’m a good girl!”

“You’re a very good girl, honey,” I say, kissing her forehead softly, and like that, she’s back in the mindset she’d wanted for today’s shopping adventure. “OK. Got your shoes tied? Let’s go!”

I let you out of the car and you excitedly grab my hand and swing it back and forth as we walk into the thrift store.

I veer quickly around the foot traffic in the aisles. Her eyes dart around the displays, looking critically at each mannequin’s outfits. She’s always had such a fantastic sense of fashion. We weave our way around, her hand in mine, until we arrive at the coats. She instinctively starts reaching out to rifle through the racks. I grip her hand in mine just a little more firmly to remind her I’m there and what she wanted me for.

She puts her other hand back at her side and turns to me. “Daddy,” she whispers with wide eyes. “Can I try on all of them?”

I chuckle softly. “Let’s pick out twenty of them!”

We start with the first rack— denim jackets.

We work our way through the stock, her pointing in eager excitement, me dutifully draping them over my shoulder until she’s exhausted every rack. It takes a long time, and she’s very thorough. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, spending time with my favorite little girl, helping her do one of her favorite things. The tension of my workweek quickly melts in the brightness of her smile.

Finally, we finish picking out coats. I locate the dressing room, bring my little girl in, set down the massive pile of coats, and take a seat on a convenient bench outside.

What follows is a winter fashion show. You come out every minute or so and do a quick roundabout turn in your blue denim shorts and sandals, modeling each coat like you were on the catwalk. I pull out my phone and take photos of you each time, moving from spot to spot to get every angle, shouting “exquisite!” “divine!” “slay!” and whatever other encouraging words come to mind.

We’re about a dozen coats in when I notice the wet spot on your shorts showing on my latest set of vogue fashion photos. I’d been focused on the coats, and I’m guessing you had been too, because I scroll back a few try-on sequences and I notice that the spot had been gradually growing larger since around coat #10.

But it’s not big enough to warrant telling you, yet. No one would notice.

You come out again, wearing a smart denim number that fits your shoulders just right. I snap photos when you pose, especially when you do your little turn. I see it now; you’re definitely going from damp to wet.

“That one’s so lovely, princess,” I say, using a the language of the small, trying to clue you in gently. You flush and giggle, and strike a second pose, your tongue out and your fingers raised in a V. You haven’t picked up the hint, haven’t noticed your little leak yet. No one else is near.

“Why don’t we pick out your three favorites, honey? I know you’ve got a few more on the stack but I think we should get going soon.”

Your face turns down in a little pout. You turn around and pantomime stomping back into the dressing room. I hear a little “hmpf” as you close the door. I chuckle to myself, but keep an eye on the crowd. I don’t want anyone else seeing your wet spot; that would just be too much for you to handle right now, I think.

You come out with three jackets in your arms. I search your face; you’re considering, thoughtfully. You still somehow haven’t noticed. I stand up from the bench.

“Go close the door honey,” I say, gesturing behind you. You turn and shut the door. There is a wet patch the size of a cantaloupe on your ass; it’s obvious and unmistakable. I need to intercede before someone else sees.

“Sweetie, come here to Daddy,” I say quietly. You hop over to me, pleased at having narrowed down your choices so effectively. “Do you have a favorite?”

“Mmmmm…” you hum thoughtfully, then nod emphatically. “Mmhm!”

You set the two other jackets on the bench, and go to wear the denim one I knew you’d pick. I put a hand on your shoulder, interrupting the movement. “Sit down, sweetie.”

“But Daddy I wanna wear it now!”

“You will,” I say even quieter, “but not in the way you’re expecting. Now, sit down.”

You sit on the bench, your urine-soaked shorts and underpants really pressing against your bottom now. You gasp as your face goes through about six emotions in less than a second:

Surprise, at the wetness on your ass, the dampness on your panties.

Realization, that your bladder has again betrayed you, leaking out into your shorts once again.

Embarrassment, at having done something so babyish in such a public place.

Disappointment, that you just can’t seem to be the big girl that you think you are.

Back to embarrassment, with the assumption that someone might see your peed shorts and know what a baby you are.

And then guilt, at the remembrance of your promise to me that you would do your best to avoid the very problem you’re currently sitting in. Tears start to well up in your eyes.

“None of that, little one,” I say quietly. “You don’t want everyone seeing the crying little pantswetter leaving the store, do you?”

You control your tears as best you can, lower lip still trembling.

“Stand up,” I command. You do as you’re told, but hesitantly, and when I take the jacket from you and tie it around your waist, you start to protest.

“Daddy, it’s gonna get pee on it!”

“Who’s fault is that,” I scold. “I’m not buying you another pair of pants from this store so we’re going to do this my way, understand? We can wash the jacket when we get home.”

She wriggles and whines a little but, looking around at the folks nearby, keeps her fussing to a minimum as I finish hiding her wetspot with our new jacket.

Getting through the checkout line is easy, since the tag is on the sleeve. She just stares blankly as the cashier scans the tag. “You don’t want to wear it out, honey? I’m sure you look great in it,” she tells you. Your grip on my arm tightens as you fight the urge to bury your burning face in my shoulder and hide your embarrassment.

On our way out, you finally pipe up. “Honey,” you whisper quietly, still using your big girl words, “I still gotta go, can I go use the bathroom?”

I stop walking and face you, just inside the door. “No,” I say firmly, and just loud enough to make you glance around to see if anyone heard. “You’ve already pissed your shorts like a little baby, in public, for the second time this week,” my voice staying low but gradually getting louder. Your eyes widen in shock and panic.

I grip your hand and lead you out the front doors, then instead of heading directly to the car, I plant you about ten steps to the left of the doors. Still in front of the glass windows.

“Finish peeing,” I say firmly.

“Daddy, noooo! Is not my fault, it was a accydent!”

I lock my eyes with yours and say nothing.

“Daddy, I don wanna barrass myself in public!” you whine, even as the look on your face tells me we’re far too late for that. I do not respond.

“Daddy peoples can see me,” you rasp, your eyes darting to the glass windows.

I fold my arms in front of me.

Your lower lip trembles again. I see you struggling not to cry.

“Five,” I say, and this time, my voice is loud.

You choke back a sob and break your eyes from mine.

“Four,” I say, even louder. Your face suddenly smooths out, your eyes far away. I know the look.

Then I hear the pattering of liquid on the concrete. I don’t look down, but I know what I’ll see if I do: the crotch of your blue jean shorts turning distressingly dark, rivulets of urine streaming down your legs, wetting your sandals and puddling on the ground.

With my thumb and forefinger, I pull your chin up until your face meets mine, so you can see how pleased I am, that I’m not angry, that you’ve done the thing I wanted you to do. That I’m proud of you. That I’m so happy that I married you.

“Good girl,” I murmur, then press my lips to your forehead. You let out the smallest squeak.

I make you sit on your new jacket on the way home. I don’t want the seats to get wet. The jacket will wash just fine.

[jadeywadey45]

"Oh my god he's sooo cute!!" Leyna exclaimed.

"Isn't he, though??" My wife, Kayla, declared proudly.

"And he's so well behaved!!" Ava admired. "Look at him dwinking his widdle ba ba without making a fuss!! Didn't you say you put one of Brad's condoms in there?"

Kayla nodded ecstatically, "Mhmm!! Five, actually!"

Ava and Leyna both turned to her, eyes wide, impressed. Kayla giggled and shrugged "It was our anniversary..."

The girls exchanged knowing looks, then laughed it off.

"And he doesn't mind drinking the cum of a man who is fucking his wife?" Leyna asked, shocked.

Kayla just shrugged, "He doesn't really have much of a choice. Plus, he's used to getting it straight from the source so..."

It took the girls a second for that to register. "Wait...you mean he--"

"Sucks Brad's dick dry like it's the last drop of water in the desert? Yea, that's exactly what I mean." Kayla laughed, "Why do you think he's in a pretty pink tutu? Brad likes his hair to be in little bows and pigtails so he can tug on them while he's fucking wittle hubby's face!"

"Well if he sucks a dick half as well as he sucks that bottle, I'd say you got a little whore on your hands." Ava quipped.

Leyna leaned in close, examining the bottle that was slowly undulating up and down, white, creamy liquid sloshing back and forth inside. "So what else is in there?"

"Oh you know...hormones, beta blockers, stool softeners, and lots of fiber to keep his tummy and diapers full! I call it his special 'formula'!"

Suddenly I felt like I could taste everything she was describing, wincing as I swallowed the liquid pooling in my mouth, only for it to be replaced with a fresh batch again and again.

"I dunno if he likes it..." Leyna said, studying my face.

"Of course he does! Don't you, Billie??" Kayla beckoned, "Show Mommy's friends how much you like your milkies!! Come on! Wave your rattle!!"

Obediently, I wagged my hands back and forth and gave the 'happy baybee' expression i've been taught to do. My diaper could hardly be heard crinkling over the sound of the wailing rattle.

The girls "Awww'd!!" and cooed and "Oh my godded" in unison, pinching my cheeks and tickling my tummy while I suckled.

Ava shook her head, impressed "He’s so well-trained!” I knew Ava had several men at home that she keeps as slaves. Kayla told me about them, but I'd never met them. "Don't worry! You will soon!" she always says. I'm a little worried about what that means.

"Oh please? Waving a rattle and babbling like a baby?? That's nothing..." Kayla scoffed, "Watch this: Hubby! It's time to make pushies!!"

My stomach felt like it was about to fall to the floor. I knew this was coming, but I guess a small part of me hoped it was just a veiled threat. Something for her to say and make me squirm. Yet here she was, pulling the bottle out of my mouth with a sssskk! and lifting my legs up by the ankles so that all the girls could see the bottom of my diaper.

"Come on, hubby!" Kayla encouraged, "Be a good gurl and use your diapers the way Mommy intended!!"

Leyna and Ava both gasped, covering their mouths as they figured what was going on.

"Is he gonna try to poop himself? Leyna asked incredulously.

"Not 'try'," Kayla corrected, giving me a stern look through my lifted legs, "He will! And he has 60 seconds before he suffers the consequences..."

I've faced those consequences many times before, I wasn't about to suffer them again. As embarrassing as it was to be surrounded by a group of beautiful girls encouraging me to dirty my own diaper--let's be honest--my dignity was long gone already.

Leyna and Ava alternated between watching my face and the squished up diaper between my legs as it slowly expanded, pressing outward as I pushed out a warm, mushy load I'd been holding for the better part of 6 hours.

Whatever fragile scrap of manhood or self-respect I thought I still possessed was obliterated the moment their laughter hit the air.

But at least that chorus of cackling didn't last long before the pungent stench assaulted their noses.

"Oof!!" Leyna winced, clamping her fingers around her nose and using the other hand to try to waft the smell away. "He stinks!!"

"Awwww!!! Widdle baybee went poo poo in his pampurrss!!" Ava intoned mockingly, laughing as she tested the warm, hefty load drooping between my legs.

"Stinky gurl!!" Kayla giggled, booping me on the nose and making it wrinkle like the other ladies. "Say 'that's how I make boom booms because I's just a widdle baybee!!"

I repeated the humiliating line like I'd done many times before, but it was a bit different with a bigger audience.

Leyna still seemed to be in shock. "I just can't believe it. You made a grown man literally shit himself!! Doesn't he get embarrassed?" She asked Kayla, like I wasn't even part of the conversation, like what I had to say didn't matter.

“Oh, he does get embarrassed." Kayla said, "But the thing is...he likes it. Don't joo, widdle guy?? He likes being humiliated and not being in charge. If his widdle pee pee wasn't wocked away in a widdle cagey cage, he would have a widdle baybee boner in his poopy pampies!! Wouldn't you, hubby??”

Judging by the painful throbbing in my penal region, I'd say she was right.

"You're a miracle worker." Ava said, impressed. “I'm gonna need you to come train my subs. Do you make him ask permission for diaper changes?”

Kayla grinned. “Of course! He even has to practice! Want to show the girls how you ask nicely, sweetheart?”

I felt my face puckering up, but I quickly washed it away, getting into character. I lifted my knees and started lightly kicking my feet up and down, waving my arms and wriggling my body back and forth.

"WWWaaaahhh!! Waaaahhhh!! Mommy!!" I cried--or at least pretended to, "I went poo poo's in my pampers wike a widdle baybee!! Wahhh!! Wahh!!! Want changies, Mommy!! Can I have changies??"

It was an absolutely pitiful display, only further emphasized by both Ava and Leyna's shock and awe, followed closely by another fit of pitying giggling.

“Awwww!!” Ava said, wiping away tears of laughter. “That is precious!! Do you always record him saying it?”

Kayla clicked her phone off and set it to the side, smiling. “Every time. Feel free to do the same!”

Both girls smiled as they pulled out their own phones, aiming them at me.

This humiliation sent me over the edge. Before I knew it, I was covering my face with my mittened hands, trying to melt away.

“Oh no you don’t,” Kayla said sweetly. “No hiding, baby! You wanted this, remember? This is our little agreement. And Mommy loves showing you off. Now do your poopy pamper dance and beg my friends to let you get your diaper changed!"

I sniffled, but obeyed. Splaying my arms and legs out to the side, opening myself to a full display for their phones to capture my degrading diaper dance. Repeating whatever humiliating line they could conjure up. Finally, they ran out of ideas.

"Pweez may I have my diaper changed??" I asked with wet eyes.

All three girls looked at each other, considering. Eventually, Ava shrugged, taking charge and scooping up the half empty bottle of 'formula', pressing the nipple to my lips.

"Not until you finish your ba ba!!"

*****

“I have to say, Kayla…” Leyna began slowly, a mischievous tone creeping in, “this is kind of amazing.”

Kayla raised an eyebrow, sipping from her glass. “Oh?”

“You’re just so in charge of him. I love it.”

I had just gotten changed into a fresh diaper, sitting on the floor and pretending to play with my dolls and blocked. I was still coming out of my post-orgasm haze. Kayla had thought it would be funny to pull out the vibrator and have me show the girls how I masturbate even when I have a cage and a dirty diaper on.

Leyna leaned forward. “I mean… does he really listen all the time? Even to your friends?”

I squirmed. Kayla smirked, eyeing me. “He does when he remembers what happens if he doesn’t.”

Leyna turned to me with mock-serious eyes. “So if I told you to crawl over to me and bark like a dog, you’d do it?”

I looked at Kayla first. She gave me a single nod.

Without a word, I clambered onto to all fours and slowly shuffled over to where they were sitting on the couch, crinkling as I went. Sitting back on my haunches, I let out an exaggerated bark, panting letting my tongue hang out afterwards for good measure. Leyna burst into delighted laughter.

“Oh my god,” she said, turning to Kayla. “That is powerful.”

“I'm gonna show that video to my slaves.” Ava said, contemplating, "Let them know what will happen to them if they misbehave."

“I mean…” Leyna trailed off, sipping her wine. “My husband’s been a bit full of himself lately. I think he could use a little... attitude adjustment.”

Kayla chuckled. “Start small. Give him rules. Catch him breaking them. Then offer him a choice: obedience, or diapers.”

Ava added, “And don’t give him too much attention. Let him earn it.”

Lena’s eyes sparkled with possibility. “You two are horrible influences. And I love it.”

Kayla raised her glass. “To soft boys, padded bottoms, and women who know what they want.”

Glasses clinked, and they sipped their adult drinks like true adults.

Down on the floor, I shifted nervously, wondering if my life would ever go back to how it was before. But, honestly? Deep down, I hoped not.

[jadeywadey45]

We have had such a nice stroll havent we

But you didn’t seem to want your rattle. In fact you seemed unhappy that you were here in nappies again and in your pram for all to see.

But now it’s time for Mommy to lay you down for naptime.

And you know what that means being in your day time nappies as part of your potty training!

You are undergoing a very special type of potty training just for ABDLs like you.

After all, I don't just want you to tolerate wearing a diaper.

I want you to embrace it, love it, crave it...even when your nappy is as full and soggy and stinky as it can get.

To make sure we don't have a repeat of yesterday's disappointing naptime where you somehow managed to stay dry

l've prepared a special sippy with a little something extra.

You are sure to fill your pampers after this. It’s going to be the best potty training naptime yet!

[jadeywadey45]

CW: Graphic Description of BIg Kid Cuddles. Not Acceptable for all Littles.

I smile as you walk up to me, cold beer in hand. The soft crinkle of the pull-up hiding just under the hem of your shirt skirt announcing your arrival.

"Here you go, Papa!" You announce cheerily, planting a kiss on my cheek.

I take the beer, reach over, and grab your pull-up clad rear, before giving it a light slap.

"Good girl," I say playfully, "Now run along and do your homework."

I watch you giggle and bounce away to your room, swaying your hips to tease me with your body. I finish my beer, get up, and follow you into your room. The sight I am greeted with makes me smile.

You're laying over the end of your bed, deligently working on your 'homework'--writing "I'm Papa's little princess," repeatedly with your non-dominant hand. Your shirt is pulled up around your waist, giving me the perfect view of the damp pullie cradling your perfectly shaped ass.

I walk up behind you and suggestively squeeze the padding between your legs.

"Baby girl, you're soaked," I risk softly as you grind into my touch.

"Sorry, Papa," you moan, biting the tip of your pencil, "I couldn't help it. I'm so... mmmm... wet."

You grind harder into my grip.

"What am I going to do with you?" I ask, just as I do every night, as I pull out my manhood, push your soaked undergarment to the side and slide myself deep inside of you.

You gasp as I fill you up, but stay focused on your homework like the good girl you are, until we both collapse on the bed in post-orgasm bliss.

I pull you tight as you kiss my cheek, my juices dripping into your pull-up.

I love our little nightly routine.

[jadeywadey45]

Me: Mommy please don't do this I'll behave, I promise!!!

Mommy: It's okay Bubba, I want you too release a huge stinky for mommy and Uncle Tony.

Uncle Tony: Omg, I can't believe my sisters boyfriend is still in diapers, Is someone gonna fill their diapie...*laughs*

*Grunts* *Bloort* *Squelch*

Me: *sobs* Mommy I did a Stinkie!

Mommy: Don't worry babyboy Uncle Tony will help ya out

Uncle Tony: Alright champ, let's get ya out of those poopy pampers and ready for beddy bye !! *chuckles*

[jadeywadey45]

[jadeywadey45]

You were so excited! Papa was finally letting you do it! He was letting you have a big kid night with your best friend!

Papa got a hotel room, so he wouldn't be in your hair.

Your bestie was coming over with snacks, drinks, and a bunch of movies. You were going to spend the night hanging on the couch, eating pizza and junk food, watching crappy movies, and talking about life, just like you used to!

When you opened the door for your bestie, you could immediately tell something was off, though. Their smile was too wide and their tone a little condescending when they greeted you warmly then pulled you into a deep hug.

You ignored it. But, things continued to feel off as the night continued.

Your friend insisted on plating all of your food and pouring all of your drinks.

They kept making sure you were using coasters and not making a mess.

The movies they brought, while all good, were rated PG or lower.

Worst of all, they kept reminding you, gently of course, to use the bathroom.

Things came to head though, at 10:30 pm, when they suddenly declared it was bedtime.

Confused, as you felt like it was far too early to call it a night, you didn't put up a fuss when they insisted they were too tired to continue.

You did, however, throw a tantrum when they reached for your pajama pants and pulled them down before chastising you for not wearing a diaper.

Where did they get off checking if you were diapered? Who did they think they were?

The answer to that question became clear as they pulled you over their lap and spanked you ruthlessly for not listening to your 'babysitter.'

You learned that Papa had not only filled them in on your current 'lifestyle choices,' but had actually hired them to watch you for the night.

Your heart sank as, after your spanking, your one-time best friend diapered you, dressed you in a onesie, and tucked you into your crib for the night. The whole interaction forcing you to realize that spending time with your 'cool' babysitter was as close to a big-kid hangout as you'd ever get to again.

[jadeywadey45]

You couldn't help but beam. Papa had let you wear big kid clothes to a party, for once!

He even let you wear your special, sexy 'big kid' undies.

Perched on his lap, your arm draped around his shoulder, kissing his neck, and enjoying the buzz from the first alcoholic beverage you've had in months, you felt so adult and so sexy.

At least you did until Papa turned his head and whispered in your ear.

"Do you need to go potty, baby doll?"

You could feel your blush radiate all the way down your neck from the simple, but infantilizing question.

"No!" You spat back in anger, only to immediately regret the decision.

After spending so much time in diapers, you had forgotten to recognize the signs that you needed to go. But, now that your attention was drawn to it, you could tell that your bladder was full to near bursting.

And worse, after that little outburst, you knew your pride would never let you admit your need to Papa now. He'd tease you and never let you live it down.

So, you stayed planted in Papa's lap, no longer relishing the rush of adulthood that you had before. Instead, you felt like a stubborn toddler, wiggling in their caregivers lap, as they denied their obvious need to pee.

It only took a few minutes before your fight with your body ended. With a trickle and then a flood, you soaked your undies, pants, and, to your horror, Papa's jeans.

"Baby," Papa chided with heartbreaking disappointment in his tone, "I thought you were going to be a big girl tonight?"

You lowered your eyes in shame and allowed Papa to herd you around the house without resistance.

After a few quick words to the host, a change of pants for Papa, and a whole wardrobe change for you, you suddenly found your position in the party had changed.

The time for lounging in Papa's lap, pretending to be his sexy girlfriend had ended. Instead, you found yourself sitting in a playpen in the corner, being cooed at and teased as your sucked your pacifier and uselessly tried to hide your bulky diaper under the short frock you were wearing.

You hated being the baby of the party.

But, after your not so little accident, you couldn't dispute that you were sitting precisely where you belonged.

[jadeywadey45]

Your mom often dropped you off at your aunt’s house when life overwhelmed her, leaving you there for days or even weeks occasionally. Your aunt, childless from a career that devoured her chance at a family, harbored a regret that poured into her desperate need to mother you. At first, her care was intense but simple—piling on blankets, reading bedtime stories, lingering to smooth your hair with a tenderness that felt both warm and heavy. You leaned into it, too shy to resist. Her maternal instincts, raw and unrestrained, inched forward, each step so subtle you accepted it like a frog in warming water, barely noticing the shift.

Her unfulfilled longing pushed the routine further. She began bathing you, running a warm cloth over your skin with meticulous care, claiming it was just practical. Then, knowing you didn’t wear diapers at home for your occasional bedwetting, she insisted on them for her beds, fastening it onto you with a quiet firmness. You blushed but were too shy to say no. Over time, she diapered you earlier each evening, the ritual starting right after dinner.

Later she even began then reassuring you it was okay to wet before bed since it was just more convenient. Eventually she even started hinting that poopy diapers were normal for bedwetters, her tone soft but deliberate. One night, after her hints, your curiosity got the best of you and you filled your diaper with poop. When she smelled it her chest instinctually pushed out and she quickly peeked down the back of the diaper like you were a little boy.

As she changed you, wiping you clean with steady hands, she slipped a pacifier into your mouth to “calm you down,” her eyes gleaming strangely. Soon, afterwards a baby bottle was introduced. Finally, she offered time at her breast, but strangely you noticed she only fed you that way if you’d filled your diaper with poop, her gaze intense with maternal fulfillment.

As weird as it all was, you continually found yourself making excuses to stay—mom’s stress, school troubles—because you’d grown to crave her nurturing, each step weaving you deeper into her desperate, motherly world

[jadeywadey45]

[jadeywadey45]

wanna be babied and cooed at while daddy uses my little hole and puts a pacifier in my mouth to keep me docile and happy

[jadeywadey45]

### **“A Day with My Disobedient Baby”**

---

**Morning**

I could already smell it before I even opened the nursery door.

Someone didn’t just wet their diaper last night — they *filled* it.

> “Oh no, baby… what did we say about asking for your bedtime change?”

You whimper behind your paci. But that diaper is swollen, stained, and *absolutely* messy. You earned this.

I unlock the crib, but I don’t take you straight to the changing mat.

> “Nope. You’re going to sit in that for a little while. Think about your choices.”

I sit you down in your highchair in your **filthy diaper**, clip your bib on, and feed you your mushy oatmeal. You shift, squish, whimper — but you *eat*. Good baby.

---

**Mid-Morning**

Time for punishment number two:

**Mitten time.**

You lost hand privileges when you tried to sneak a finger under your onesie yesterday.

I slide the locking mittens on, cinch them tight, and strap you into your playpen. No blocks. No cartoons. Just a soft rattle and your crinkly shame.

Every time you whimper, I come over and check your diaper again — loudly.

> *“Still soggy. Still mine.”*

And no, you don’t get changed yet.

---

**Afternoon**

After lunch (from a bottle, since big babies who mess themselves don’t get spoons), it’s nap time. But not in a fresh diaper — oh no.

> “You’ll sleep in that wet thing. Maybe you’ll learn.”

I tie your pacifier to your crib bars, mittens still locked, legs spread slightly by the **bulky, cold squish** between your thighs. The nursery camera stays on.

You cry yourself to sleep, like a proper little.

---

**Evening**

By dinner, you’re a wreck. Red-faced. Desperate. Obedient.

So Mommy gives you *a treat*: a full, thorough, humiliating diaper change. I tease, I tsk, I wipe so slowly while reminding you how pathetic you are.

> “You can’t even make it through nap time without soaking yourself.

Big babies don’t cry when they’re changed — but you’re not even big.”

You get double-padded for bedtime, then plastic pants locked on top. You’re not moving much tonight.

I tie your hands to the crib rails (just in case), replace your paci, and kiss your forehead.

> “You were a naughty baby today… but Mommy still loves you.

And tomorrow? We start again.”

Click. Bars up. Lights out.

Just you, your shame, and the diaper between your thighs — full before midnight.