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Well said by the amazing @diaperedlilgirl .

LDR is hard. Building a lifelong relationship is hard. Navigating dating in kink is hard. But finding that special someone makes it all feel worthwhile.

If anyone out there is struggling with any part of this, feel free to reach out.

Keep it kinky, y'all

This is pretty personal, so feel free to not answer, but what’s your experience with long-distance been like?

It’s not something I think any of us want to do, but finding someone into this kink who is also a wonderful compatible partner seems to often mean starting out with lots of miles between us.

I often question if it’s worth even trying, or if it’s better to date strictly IRL and hope for someone who will at least tolerate ABDL. But then again, life is short, and being tolerated or humored doesn’t feel very good.

Any insights to share?

It has not been easy I’ll be honest.

Daddy and I used to be able to see each other more often but due to work and life commitments it gets harder to carve out time for as many frequent trips as we did when we first started dating.

That being said… if you’re from the US or UK I believe there’s a large amount of people into the kink that you can try to find someone within your country and not do an international LDR like us. It is also a lot easier to close the distance for same country LDR.

I’ve tried dating locally but the community is small and almost non existent. I also had a few deal breakers in the person I was looking for so it didn’t make sense for me to limit myself with just looking locally.

Daddy & I didn’t start out looking for a relationship when we first started chatting, we had both dated and were dating vanilla partners who were not receptive to ABDL and told us to find our fix elsewhere basically lol. We were with our partners probably for a year or two respectively after we first spoke and during that time it was more as friends. After we left our partners we dated around locally but nothing really came up for either of us. We decided to meet on my trip to the US and decide to date after spending time together in person.

LDR is hard. You need to be prepared to make sacrifices, someone has to move to be with the other person and basically restart their lives. But both parties have to be willing to make the move. You or your partner might not adjust to living in the first country each other moves to and there needs to be talks about what happens after that.

You spend a lot of time missing the other person and going through your life without them. But I wouldn’t pick someone else, to make things easier . For me I don’t think I’ve ever felt like I was able to be unapologetically myself until I met Daddy and be so loved for all my good and bad and the baggage I carry.

It’s not for the faint hearted. You need to have an end date, discuss plans and communicate well. We always knew I’d be the one to move but during our marriage he actually moved and stayed for a couple years so we didn’t have to spend most of our marriage apart.

I’ll be honest as the years go on I get less patient between visits so it’s a good thing we started the process of my move so LDR will be a thing of the past soon. 🤞🏻

I hope this helps? I kinda rambled on a bit. Personally I feel it’s so hard to find your person and have that person mesh well with your kinks, it’s something you’d need to decide what’s more important to you and if you’re willing to do an LDR for that.

Thank you for the interesting ask!

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Very fun story from one of my favorite captioneers in the community.

Here's a super long story... enjoy! and remember, kids, to always and without question D R I N K Y O U R M I L K

...

Cindy began feeling funny. she was usually feeling funny these days. ever since she ended up... here.

Wherever, here was, anyways. She spent most of her days asleep. Or so she thought she was asleep. Who knows, after the first few days, it was hard to know what was really happening or not. what was really a dream or not... everything was so surreal. each room more than the last. surely there wasn't a whole facility like this? A facility, a whole industry perhaps dedicated to making girls like her into their favorite nightmares come true.

room after room of softly colored padded walls. large oversized furniture designed to make her feel small. classroom with rows of wooden school desks so she and the other girls could 'learn' how to act. She would look around the classroom room and saw the other girls. they were dressed just like her. pink and purple colors. soft, droopy and dreamy eyes. schoolgirl uniforms, each and every one of them... pigtails, braids, bangs, top knots, and lots and lots of pretty bows. of course, all of them were diapered. there was no mistaking that. even though they had skirts, you could tell from how far apart their legs had been stretched, sometimes you could even see their padding sagging and peaking out from beyond their plaid and pleats. the 'nurses' as they were called, would haul each girl into their assigned seat, make sure they were securely seating in their desk, and pop their pacifiers in their mouths. before long, a chorus of rhythmic suckling was the only sound filling the room. that was... until the 'films' began. The door swung closed followed by a heavy clunking lock that could be heard behind it. The nurses were right outside, watching from beyond a two way mirror.

hyper-hypnotic programming. deep cerebral penetrating images and words would flash on the screen. on top of spirals that would draw their eyes towards the screen and hushed, humming, droning tones that would be in their ears for days on end... at least, it felt like they could still hear it.

As the film began to count down, she saw the nurses toddle out, covering their ears with their hands as to not be exposed to the brainwashing themselves. Cindy looked at one of the nurses wide legged stand, and thought she saw something familiar between her legs. as soon as the door closed, it was pitch black, and quiet, if only for an instant, only pacifiers could be heard.

Until the screen turned on, and bathed everyone in a bright pink glow. Cindy looked around the room, trying to resist for as long as she could. she knew it wouldn't last. before long, hours would have passed. just like they had passed before. but for now, she saw the other girls, some of them acting like her, trying to evade the screen pulling them closer. their pigtails swinging defiantly from side to side as they shook their head, trying to cover their ears. it would be no use

Cindy looked to the other side of the room, where the more 'experienced' girls were. some of the girls were drooling heavily. a constant spout of spit had begun to drip onto their desks as their eyes glazed over. some girls even let their pacifiers drop from their mouths, only to be caught by their paci-clip attached to their blouse. this gave way for big, dumb, ear to ear smiles on these girls faces, replaced only big giggles and excited exclamations of affirmations. 'uh-huh! I wet my diapeee!' was one such affirmation that could be heard throughout the room.

As Cindy continued to gaze their way, she must have somehow caught the attention of one of the newly brainwashed bimbo babies, as one of them turned slowly to meet her eyes, their wide smile and blissful facial expression unchanged. Drool continued to fall onto their chin. their eyes blank, empty and slightly crossed, but somehow still staring deep into Cindy's. deep into her soul. Was she going to end up just like them?

This girl waved a cheerful little wave to Cindy, who could only look on in horror and confusion, at what the girl did next. She, turning her body to face Cindy, spread her legs as far as she could, revealing her thick, plastic-backed white diaper. then and only then, did Cindy see this girl ever close her eyes, as she popped her paci back into her mouth, and pushed what was left of her brain out, all for Cindy to see.

Cindy watched as the girls diaper began to expand in her seat. first filling up at the base, pushing her legs even wider apart, filling up the seat of the diaper until even the top of her padded had swelled up past the girls belly button. She began leaking onto her seat, then Cindy watched as the pool of peepee began to pitter patter onto the floor, it could be heard over the film. The girls eyes opened back up, her face blushing hot red as she still looked onward at Cindy. She was bouncing up in her seat, feeling the warm wet padding squish around her. it was then the girls eyes were drawn back into the hypnotic screen...

Cindy watched as the girl simply went back to how she was before, blank, motionless, drooling... her body turned back towards the screen, this girl began gyrating in her seat, grapping the edges of the desk for support. Her lewd motions caused caused Cindy to Break. For she too would become just like that. just like everyone else in her 'graduating class'

or would she?

Cindy couldn't take it, she began writhing in her seat. huffing and puffing behind her pacifier. silently screaming and kicking her feet. causing some of the other girls to lose focus. causing some of them to even start crying.

almost as soon as it began, as soon as she began protesting, the film shut off, the lights flashed back on and the droning tones stopped. this gave way to the sound of sniffles as the crying slowly stopped. The door again made that loud wrenching locking sound...

suddenly the door was swung open, no more than five nurses came in and grabbed Cindy from her desk, threw her into a straight jacket by force, and pulled her from her newly acquired neck loop out into the hallway.

Cindy toddled endlessly with these new nurses. she looked back and could see the light from the classroom change back to pink and purple flashes... a chorus cheers could be heard as the film began again...

down one hallway, then the next, turn after turn after turn. the nurses flat shoes clattering on the floor was the only sound. Soon Cindy found herself in part of the building she had never been in before. She was thrown into a room that smelled sweet and was carpeted all around. a lullaby playing from somewhere. In one corner, a crib big enough for Cindy and at least two other girls, in the other corner, a large oversized teddy bear lay in front of her. Cindy didn't know if she could trust its black button eyes, maybe there were cameras in it... then again, maybe not...

The nurse from before stepped in front of her , holding a baby bottle with a long oversized rubber nipple. Cindy tried to get away, but her newly found fashion attire afforded her no use of her arms. She could barely stand before falling back onto her thickly padded bottom. As the nurse toddled close to her, Cindy managed to get back onto her knees, only to see under the nurses dress long enough... a diaper. yes! she too was wearing a diaper. Cindy looked doe-eyed and stupidly up a her superior. "Yes, that's right. Everyone wears diapers here. its a good thing that we all wear diapers. We all love our diapers very much." the nurse said cheerfully as she shook up the large bottle with one hand, and grabbed Cindy's cheeks in her other. Cindy looked up at her as she said this, the same blank stare in the nurses face as was in the other girl's eyes. "And soon, you'll learn to love your diapers just like we all do. Who knows, maybe if you're a good girl, you can even teach other girls to love their diapers, just like me. But that will take a while, and a lot more special bottles... You'll need to learn to behave, first. Don't worry, I used to be a little trouble maker, just like you."

Cindy only had a split second to process what was just said... before the nurse shoved the large rubber nipple deep into her mouth. The nurse began to squeeze the bottle and soon a torrent of warm, thick, liquid began to pool in the back of her mouth. She was of course, quick to swallow... maybe if she behaved from now on, there would be no more bottle feedings. maybe she could go back to the room she was before, with all of the other girls... and she could just sit and watch and listen and behave...

"there there," the nursed cooed softly. "just keep drinking your milk and you'll become so much better before you know it."

Cindy believed her...Cindy began feeling funny. she was usually feeling funny these days. ever since she ended up... here.

...

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Very fun one from @regressionschool

Big Girl Rebellion

I used to be potty-trained.

I mean, really trained. I had sparkle undies with cartoon kittens, knew when I had to go, and even wiped all by myself. I used to feel proud of that—smug, even. Big girl Sophie, the girl who didn’t need help. The girl who didn’t wear diapers like the other littles.

But that was before.

Before they decided I needed to be “reminded” of my place. Before the charts and the baby bottles and the locking potty lid. Before the first thick diaper was taped onto me while I screamed and kicked and swore I’d never use it.

Spoiler: I did.

And now? Now I’m sitting in the middle of the playroom, legs spread wide by the swollen padding between them, surrounded by plushies I didn’t choose and building blocks I’m expected to play with. I’m wearing a pastel onesie that snaps between my legs, stretched tight over a very obvious, very used diaper.

And I’m not letting Nanny Clara change me.

“You’re stinky again, Sophie,” she says gently, kneeling in front of me with the calm, patronizing tone they all use. Like I’m some baby who doesn’t know better. “Come on, sweetie. Time to get you cleaned up.”

“No,” I snap. I turn my face away like the toddlers do when they’re being bratty. “I like it.”

She blinks, but only for a moment. She’s trained for this. “Sophie,” she tries again, more firmly this time. “You’ve been sitting in that diaper for almost an hour. I can see it hanging between your knees.”

I spread my legs wider on purpose, grabbing one of the blocks and banging it on the floor.

“So?”

“So,” she says, biting back her sigh, “you need to be changed.”

“No, I don’t.”

She pauses. “You used to be such a big girl…”

I round on her. “Exactly. Used to. But you took that away. You put me in these. You made me sit in the corner until I messed myself. You’re the one who clapped when I did it. So now? Now this is you getting what you wanted.”

I shift deliberately, the mush shifting with me, and watch her flinch just the tiniest bit.

Deep down, some part of me loves it.

Nanny Clara puts the wipes and clean diaper back in the basket, standing slowly. “Fine,” she says, her tone still syrupy sweet. “You can come find me when you’re ready for a change, okay, sugarplum?”

I ignore her. She walks off.

Good.

I hate her. I hate all of them. I hate that they took away my panties, made me ask permission for everything, from snacks to TV time. But mostly, I hate that I stopped fighting.

Because now? I’m… getting used to it.

The padding between my legs feels natural. The squish doesn’t bother me anymore. The smell makes people wrinkle their noses and call me names “stinky butt,” “messy miss,” “diaper girl” but I’ve started to like those names.

When people talk down to me, coo at me, lift my skirt to check if I’m wet—I feel small. Powerless.

But safe.

That’s the worst part.

“Hey, diaper girl,” a voice calls.

I glance up. It's Brandon, one of the caretakers. Young, tall, broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up to show his arms. He’s smiling, crouching to my level, and he’s got that teasing twinkle in his eye.

I shift a little, letting the weight of my messy diaper tug at my hips.

He wrinkles his nose. “Yup, that’s what I thought.”

“What?”

“You filled your pants again, huh?” he says. He’s not mad. He’s amused. Like I’m a toddler who just finger painted on the walls.

I look down at the blocks, pretending not to care, but my cheeks go pink anyway.

“Did you already tell Clara no?”

I nod, sulking.

“Figures,” he chuckles. “You’re always so stubborn. Used to be the big bossy girl, remember? Telling everyone you were too old for naps and that only babies wore diapers.”

“I was right,” I mutter.

He leans in. “You still think you’re not a baby?”

I glare at him.

His eyes flick down to the bulging seat of my diaper.

“Coulda fooled me.”

I should hate that.

But I don’t.

I like the way he looks at me now. Not like an equal. Not like a girl with control. But like a helpless little thing who can’t even keep her pants clean.

And maybe I am that now. Not because they forced it on me but because I let them. Because it’s easier to lean into it than to keep fighting. Because it’s soft and warm and oddly comforting to give up the grown-up fight and just be… soggy.

“Come on,” he says, scooping me up like I weigh nothing.

I squeal in surprise, my arms going around his neck on instinct. “I didn’t say yes!”

He smirks. “You didn’t say no either.”

He carries me easily, one arm under my bottom, not even flinching at the squish he’s got his hand pressed against. The air shifts as he walks, and I catch a whiff of myself, sharp, thick, unmistakable.

He definitely notices. But he doesn’t stop holding me.

“Bet you’re proud of yourself, huh?” he murmurs, bouncing me slightly. “Filling your diapers like a good little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I whisper, but it’s weak.

“Coulda fooled me,” he repeats, echoing himself.

He lays me down on the changing mat in the nursery, the crinkle of the plastic loud under my onesie. I stare at the ceiling as he un-snaps me, exposing the bulging diaper underneath. His hand hovers.

“Still want to say no?”

I glance down at the disaster I made in my pants, and I actually smile.

“Maybe just five more minutes,” I say softly. “I like how it feels.”

He raises a brow, but he doesn’t argue. Just gently re-snaps my onesie and sits beside me on the mat, tousling my hair.

“Guess you’re really one of the littles now, huh?”

I nod.

No shame. No fight left.

Just a warm, squishy diaper and the soft hand of someone who treats me like the messy little girl I’ve become.

And for the first time, I don’t want to be anything else.

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It’s Okay to Be Weird!

It’s been said before, but it can never be said enough.

I’ve been in and around ab/dl for over a decade, and I’ve seen a lot. I’ve seen daddies and mommies and ABs and DLs and LGs and LBs and switches and a whole lot in between, and one thing is clear: all this is complicated, and it’s hard to make sense of. 

So how do you deal with being an ab/dl, or liking any other sort of unusual kink or lifestyle? Well, you could look at a guide that tries to tell you what you are based on a few basic questions (and I’m not making light of these guides - they can help, to some extent), or you can remember these things:

1. It’s okay to not fit in to other people’s definitions of what you should be.

2. It’s okay to not understand exactly what you want or what you like or what you are, or why. Not everything is rational.

3. It’s okay to ask questions. Other people might not share all your feelings and ideas, but you can still learn a lot from the journeys they’ve taken.

At the end of the day, we’re all weird, some a bit more visibly than others. And that’s okay. It’s hard for anyone to understand themselves, where they fit in, and all that jazz, but it’s way harder to try to figure it out alone. So embrace your weirdness, question your weirdness, and find people to talk to about it, so that you can better explore it. You’ll be glad you did.

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Making friends on tumblr is weird. It’s like “Hi, I don’t know where you’re from but I know your kinks and exactly how depressed you were last Tuesday.”

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Rebloggin' just cause. Hope y'all are doin' good out there!

reblog if you’d like one of these in your inbox

- ask me things you want to know about me

- why you follow me

- what’s on your mind/what you’re thinking about

- a compliment

- make me choose between two things

- ask for advice

- tell me a secret

- things you associate me with

- anything!!!!

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White Rabbit (Remastered)

Another story from before my Great Purge, this one featuring the wonderful work of @babyfluffybutt. Be sure to follow and support her awesome content!

Allie looked up in her egg hunt attire Card-suits and checkers adorning her frock, A bow in her hair and a thick-crinkled bottom, And bunny-ears hanging she swore she'd heard talk. 

Daddy spoke up, "Remember the rules now, "Five in the basket, and I'll give you a change." Allie first smiled as she tried to acknowledge, But as brain worked to process, well, something felt strange. 

“The tapes that you gave me…” she started to mumble, And tried to remember what she heard on the way. Three hours’ ride to his house in the country, And it was all such a blank, she asked, “what’d they say?"

Daddy - he chuckled, and paused for a moment "You're in for adventure - I'll leave it at that." He patted her head and he kissed the Red Princess And gave her a wink as he tipped her his hat.

Finding the first egg was pleasant and simple On the ground by a bush where she’d happened by chance But as Allie looked up from this one step completed, She departed the egg-hunt and entered a trance.

A flashback - the first time out here in the courtyard When Daddy's estate was like nothing she'd seen She'd known right away that these fields were majestic The one difference being - back then, they were green. 

She couldn't quite tell if her eyes were deceiving: Kaleidoscope purple, blue, yellow, and red. They found the girl slowing and drooling and dizzy Joining the chorus of swirls in her head.

Allie came to, but not halfway as focused And the next rainbow egg was much harder to get When she finally found and bent down to retrieve it, A jarring sensation - bum heavy and wet. 

“You’ve be-puddled yourself!” came the voice of the rabbit, And Allie's face reddened with cheeks in a puff. “You thought that you wouldn’t need diapers this journey, And now you should wonder if one is enough!"

“Nuh uh!” she harrumphed, crossing arms in denial, As girls of her sort are just so wont to do, She’d never been one to quite master the potty, But being so wet and clueless was certainly new. 

The rabbit teased on as their journey continued. The princess, for her part, continued to slip. And by the time that she added one more to the basket, Her childish denials had started to flip.   

"That's three we've got total," the rabbit reported, "If five is our target, how many to go?" But Allie just giggled as her cheek met her finger, Grinned, "I'm just a baby, sir! How would I know?" 

Hours would pass, and the fourth egg eluded, And twilight’s temptation was casting its spell. Tossing basket aside, the girl started yawning, And with a plop and a squish to her bottom she fell.

Her thumb joined her mouth and she sucked without thinking And giggled at shapes that she made with her toes. Daddy came out - it was near time for dinner - And caught her attention by booping her nose.

A week after Easter, effects still persisted. The mind alterations had taken their toll. Eyes followed Allie as she waddled ‘round daily Filling her diapers with zero control. 

And though it seemed scary she barely could focus, Got mixed up when counting, and struggled with text, She licked lips looking back at her Wonderland journey, And dreamt when she’d go down the rabbit-hole next.

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She was so proud of herself !

She had found so many Easter eggs.

her search had lasted all day.

her daddy even had to change her diaper

As both her basket and diaper got more and more full, she would begin to toddle as the day went on.

she had just gotten home and waddled into her nursery.

She wanted to look at all her pretty eggs, and eat all the yummy candy she found inside.

It was so many that she didn't even know how many there were

She couldn't possibly be expected to count that high.

Just like she couldn't possibly be expected to keep herself dry.

She was always a wet little baby doll.

but that's ok.

She'd rather just let her dress her.

She had been dressed so cute today too !

Maybe she could ask if she could wear her special outfit more often !

So right then and there, as her little mind wandered away , she just leaked into her pampers, again. just a little princess potty pants.

She had much more important things to do.

She called you, lisping behind her pacifier as she quickly sucked just a little bit of drool from totally slipping from her mouth, maybe she'd have to get a bib.

"daddy come count with me, its too hard for me!"

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Hope's Eternal Spring (Remastered)

My greatest and best story. No further introduction is needed.

*******

Hope clasped her résumé tightly in her hands as she approached the double-doors of the daycare, her heart pulsating inside her chest as she remembered those words in the paper. 

LITTLE ONES NEED CARE AND DISCIPLINE. PLEASE APPLY. 

Something had seemed strangely off about that job listing. There was no email and no business name, and the whole thing felt hastily strung together. And now, she was about to find out what it meant.

The building looked larger than any daycare she’d ever seen, particularly daunting for Hope’s diminutive five-foot frame. The nineteen-year-old attempted to collect herself, but a deep breath-in almost caused the top button of her blouse to burst, struggling as it already was to contain the girl’s supple breasts. And so she breathed out, adjusted her shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair, and stepped forward. 

It was a Saturday, and the center was empty except for a small, frazzled-looking woman at the front desk, who rose quickly to meet her visitor.

“You must be Hope,” she said breathlessly, struggling to keep several stacks of papers on her desk from flying away as she got up, “I’m Miss Chaucer, I run the place here, let me show you around.”

Hope simply nodded along and followed as the woman walked her through the building, spouting generic drivel about how the facilities were new and demanded careful upkeep. There were several rows of cribs, with sizes ranging from a small infant to a large toddler, two open areas for play, a kitchenette with a few snack cupboards, and several changing stations. The center seemed large, but it also struck Hope as rather normal, and so naturally she began to worry. 

“Any questions?” The woman finally stopped as she finished her tour, crossing arms on her chest as she leant against the wall behind. 

“Ummmmm…” Hope paused, her finger on her lip, looking for the right way to word her question, “so… this is all the rooms? Nothing… ummm… hidden?”

“Hidden? No, that’s all of them. Except the adult restroom, I guess? It’s to your right, behind you, if you want to take a look.”

Hope turned and managed to peer in, seeing what looked to be an ordinary restroom. 

“And we’re… umm… allowed to use it, while working?” Hope asked wishfully.    

At this, the overworked woman raised an eyebrow. “Well yes, of course. Why wouldn't you be?”

“Ummmm… I guess… uh…” Hope stammered and blushed, tapping her foot to the floor.

“Is this about the newspaper listing?” Miss Chaucer raised an eyebrow, “Oh, we’ve had a few people ask about that. Sorry if that was vague - we wanted to keep it simple for the old folks.”

“The old folks?”

“Yep. Same reason we didn’t put our email there. I mean, who else looks for jobs in the paper these days? Come to think of it, why did you?”

Hope blushed. “It just… ummm… it just caught my eye, I guess.”

“Ah. I suppose the all-caps will do that. But yes, just a normal daycare here.”

“Oh, ummm, okay, sorry, yeah, just trying to make sure…” Hope tried to brush off her earlier fluster, wincing at her own embarrassment only to be embarrassed further by her wince. 

“You sound disappointed,” the woman observed, “What- what exactly were you expecting?”

The girl’s blush returned and deepened, eyes widening as she fell into an awkward silence, looking for something to say to escape the situation. 

“I… uhhh… I think I should be going now,” she finally stammered. 

“I think that’s best.”

Hope scrambled away, whistling to herself, before finally calming down into a slow walk once she left the door. She tossed her résumé into a nearby can, and spent the next several hours meandering about town, trying to take her mind off of her strange interview. And take her mind off she did - she ran into a few friends at the mall, shopped for new skirts and tops, and enjoyed a burger with fries and soda, successfully finding distraction in the comfort.  

Before she knew it, the sun was setting, and Hope finally made her way back home. But when she entered the living room, she saw her mother waiting for her, arms folded sternly across her chest. 

“Sit down,” the older woman demanded, “we need to talk.”

Hope was unprepared for this, but she did as she was told, stepping backwards towards a loose dining seat at the edge of the room. She sat with her shoulders snug against her ample bosom - a feature she inherited from her mother, whose bosom was also ample. 

“Ummm, yeah, mom?”

“Well? Did you get the job?”

Hope paused. She had completely forgotten about the interview that started the day. 

“Oh… uh, no, I don’t think so.”

Her mother glared. “That’s it? ‘Oops, sorry, didn’t get it’? Hope, it’s been almost a year since you finished high school, and you’ve done nothing but shop at the mall with your posse of airheads” - she gestured towards the bags the girl had brought home - “and twiddle away at home on your InstaToks and FaceGrams.

“You’re almost twenty years old, Hope. I expected you to act like an adult. But so far, you’ve been acting more like…”

Hope’s eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward in her chair. “Like what, mom?”

“Like a child, Hope. No, worse than that - like a baby. You’ve been acting like a baby!”

The girl gulped, her legs starting to shake excitedly. “So… so what are you gonna do about that?”

“Well, if you’re going to act like a baby,” the mother declared, “then I’m just going to have to… I’m just going to have to ground you!”

At once, Hope’s legs stopped shaking, and she let out a defeated sigh. “You’re… going to ground me?”

“That’s right, young lady! No malls, no little playdates, no social media for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, okay, cool. Going to my room now.” Hope grabbed her bags and headed upstairs, as her mother’s stern eyes continued to follow her. 

The girl gave another longing sigh as she entered the room, preparing herself for a dull night at home, when something very strange happened. 

As she tossed a bag of clothes towards her large bedroom mirror, the corner of the paper grazed the pane. But instead of knocking against glass, it seemed to create a ripple, a ripple that reverberated across the entire bottom half of the mirror before it all returned to its normal, smooth state. 

Hope rubbed eyes in disbelief, and then slowly approached the mirror herself. With fear, wonder, and excitement coursing through her, she inched her finger closer and closer to its reflection until, sure enough, it went in. 

Through the mirror, she could feel the tingle of a warm breeze, and could even hear the faint rustle of leaves from beyond the portal. Hope took a long, deep breath as she contemplated her next move, but the curiosity quickly became too much to bear, and the girl stepped forth. 

In an instant, she was transported to a lush rainforest paradise. Landing on the edge of a small pool of water, Hope took note of its strange ripple matching her own mirror’s, and wondered if she would ever take it as a route of return. 

On she went to explore! With the songs of birds surrounding her, she strolled along the dewy grass, her ripe melons dancing in the tropical wind. And then, she was struck by the greatest excitement of all, as she saw a large silhouette in the distance, perched beside a tall tree. 

It can’t be, she thought to herself. But it was. She was, standing majestically, towering close to eight feet tall, wearing a bronze breastplate and a simple loincloth.  

A giantess! And this giantess noticed the girl coming towards her, returning Hope’s look of wonder with one of her own, and kneeling down to get a closer look. 

“A… a small one?” the Amazon wondered aloud, her voice firm and commanding even in a whisper, “where did you come from, small one?”

Hope was overwhelmed by the moment, pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “I… I… I came from another world, I guess,” she finally stammered. 

“Another world?” the giantess repeated, “Then it is truly a miracle that you have come. We Amazons need small ones like you.

“You are a curved one, I see,” she remarked, her large fingers hovering curiously over Hope’s pillowy bazonkas, “and yet, with your nimble, graceful form, you are perfect.”

“P-perfect for what?” Hope asked, her eyes welling with excitement as her mind raced across the world of possibility. 

“For everything, my dear -” the Amazon smiled, outlining the shape of Hope’s petite body with her hand, “for sneaking around undetected, for surveying terrain, for planting traps. You are our ideal tool for tactical reconnaissance against the 50-foot Robot Aardvarks.”

“The… what?” Hope blinked, the look of wonder washing immediately away from her face. 

“Those beasts,” the massive woman declared, “they have ravaged our plane for far too long. But that is going to change. Starting today, we will quiver in fear no longer. Starting today, we will stand and strike back. Sta-”

“Yeah, no.”

“What?”

“Sorry, can’t help you.” Hope was already turned around, walking back towards the portal she entered through. 

 The Amazon was in disbelief and despair. “But, please! Please, small one! You’re our only Hope! Get it!? Hope?” she cried out desperately, her words drowned out by the robot-aardvark eye-lasers bearing down upon the forest around her. 

Meanwhile, Hope was well into the woods, back at the small stream where her short journey began. With one more disappointed sigh, the girl covered her nose, closed her eyes, and plunged feet-first into the water. 

With a splash, she was back at home, glad to be done with the day. Drenched from the interdimensional dive, the girl took a long, hot shower. Then, after thinking about the things she had seen, she took another long, hot shower. 

Finally, Hope dried herself off, opened up a bag hidden under her bed, and took out a diaper to wear. After taping it on and tucking herself under her blanket, she went onto her phone and jumped to her favorite AB/DL erotica blog. And then, she masturbated. A lot. 

The End   

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For those familiar with the phrase, I'm a lucky lucky lucky lucky lucky luck boy. But it's nice to hear my wife thinks she's lucky, too. 🤷‍♂️

You guys have an adorable dynamic and I think its awesome you can both make it work! Its very rare to find that long term in the ABDL world so don't let go of it!!

Thank you so much for your sweet message! We are very lucky to have found each other.

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💯💯💯

Educational post!

Sadly there are a lot of creeps on here that have no kink experience and aren’t Doms or Daddy’s. They’re just abusive morons praying on inexperienced girls that don’t know any better.

A real daddy won’t demand you call him daddy after 2 mins.

He won’t demand nudes and say you’re not a real sub if you don’t do as I say.

A real daddy will get to know you, respect your limits and ask what you’re ok with and take it slow.

Please reblog and help share this.

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Now this was fun!

Trigger [an ABDL Hypnosis Story]

The café was comfortably lively, a gentle hum of voices and the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic filling the space. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, glinting off the water glasses, and the air smelled of fresh coffee and warm pastries.

Molly sat across from Dave, stirring cream into her coffee with small, absentminded motions. She had barely touched her croissant, only nibbling at the edges while her thoughts drifted. Dave, on the other hand, was cutting into a stack of pancakes with practiced ease, unfazed by the conversation unfolding between them.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Molly said, shaking her head slightly. “Like—Emma just… lets it happen?”

Dave chewed, swallowed, and lifted his coffee cup. “It’s not really ‘letting,’ though, is it? It’s what she wants.”

Molly made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “Does she? Or is it just what he wants?”

Dave arched a brow but didn’t respond immediately. He took another bite, letting the syrup soak into the pancakes before cutting another neat square. “She seems happy. I mean, she always said she wanted something different, right?”

Molly’s fingers tightened around her cup. “Different isn’t the same as being put back into—into toddlerhood. That’s not just a ‘different lifestyle,’ Dave. It’s… regressive.”

He shrugged. “And?”

“And—” Molly exhaled sharply, setting her spoon down a little too hard. “And I just don’t get how she could want that. Like, really want it. No responsibility? No autonomy? Just being put in—” she stopped, shaking her head. “It freaks me out.”

Dave took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. He didn’t argue, didn’t tell her she was overreacting. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he let the silence sit between them for a beat before saying, “I think it freaks you out because you can’t imagine wanting it. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Molly frowned. “I didn’t say it was wrong. I said it was scary.”

Dave tilted his head slightly. “Same thing, in a way.”

Molly opened her mouth, then shut it again, glaring at her croissant like it had personally offended her. She didn’t like that—when Dave did that thing where he made a point without actually making one. It left her feeling unsteady, like she had to defend herself when she wasn’t even sure what she was defending.

She pushed her plate away slightly, leaning back in her chair. “I just keep thinking about it. Like, if that can happen to Emma, could it happen to anyone? What’s the… trigger?”

Dave chuckled, shaking his head. “Molly, you say that like it’s a virus or something.”

“Well, isn’t it?” she shot back. “One day, she was just our friend Emma, and now she’s…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “She’s in nappies, Dave. Full-time. And not just that, but he makes the choices now. What she eats, what she wears, when she sleeps.”

Dave tapped his fork against his plate thoughtfully. “She let him.”

“That’s what scares me,” Molly admitted. Her voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That she let him. And she’s fine with it. More than fine. She’s… content.”

“Would it be different if she wasn’t?”

Molly blinked. “What?”

“If she was miserable,” Dave said. “If she hated it. Would you feel better?”

She scowled. “That’s not the point.”

“I think it might be,” he said, and for the first time, there was something pointed in his tone. “If she hated it, you could see it as something being done to her. But she doesn’t. So instead, you have to deal with the fact that she chose it. And that makes you uncomfortable.”

Molly crossed her arms, looking away. “It should make you uncomfortable too.”

Dave sighed and set his fork down. “I don’t know, Mol. Maybe I just don’t care as much as you do. It’s weird, yeah. But people do weird things all the time. If it makes her happy, why should it matter?”

Molly shook her head, staring out the window. Outside, people walked by with shopping bags, strollers, coffee cups in hand. Just… normal people. People who weren’t Emma.

She could almost see her in her mind—Emma, giggling, dressed in something soft and pastel, clutching a stuffed animal. Not a woman anymore. Not in the way she used to be.

Dave studied Molly for a long moment, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. The tension in her shoulders, the hard set of her jaw—it was all so familiar. The same reaction he’d seen before, whenever Emma came up in conversation.

He sighed. “You know, it’s funny.”

Molly frowned. “What is?”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just a fraction. “You keep talking like you don’t understand. But I think, deep down, you do.”

She scoffed, opening her mouth to retort, but Dave cut her off with a single phrase, low and deliberate:

“Little minds don’t worry.”

Molly’s breath caught. For a second, nothing happened—just a flicker in her expression, a slight widening of her eyes. Then, like a ripple spreading across the surface of a pond, something shifted.

Her lips parted, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her fingers, which had been tense around her coffee cup, suddenly slackened, as if the very concept of holding it had become too complex. She blinked rapidly, her gaze unfocused.

“Wh—” Her voice came out small, uncertain. She shook her head, strands of hair falling into her face. “Whazza…?”

Dave sat back, watching as it unfolded.

Molly’s posture sagged, her body language morphing from sharp and guarded to something looser, more instinctual. The weight of her own thoughts—thoughts that had moments ago felt so heavy, so complicated—seemed to vanish.

Her expression flickered through confusion, then something closer to frustration. “S’fuzzy,” she mumbled, bringing her hands up to rub at her temples. “Don’—I don’ get… um…”

Her tongue tripped over her own words. Concepts unraveled like loose threads, slipping through her grasp. Even the sentence she’d just started—what was it supposed to be? What was she even trying to say?

Her eyes darted to Dave, wide and almost pleading.

“Davey,” she whimpered.

He hummed. “Yeah, Mols?”

“F’eels weird,” she murmured, shifting in her seat. “Dunno—s’diff’ent. Ev’rything all… ‘spicy’.”

Dave tilted his head, amused. “Spicy?”

Molly pouted, frustrated by the word she couldn’t quite find. “Mmmm, not spicy, but—y’know! All wiggly ‘n’ tingly ‘n’ funny.”

As if on cue, she let out a sharp gasp, her hands darting down to her lap. A slow warmth spread beneath her, soaking into the fabric of her jeans, pooling against the seat.

Molly let out a breathy little whimper as the last remnants of adult thought crumbled. “Uh-oh…”

A dark patch spread beneath her, creeping outward, the undeniable hiss of her accident filling the air.

Dave chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “That’s okay, kiddo,” he said lightly. “Little girls don’t worry ‘bout things like that, remember?”

Molly blinked up at him, her bottom lip wobbling, the lingering ghost of something wrong flickering across her features before fading into soft, placid contentment.

She wasn’t an adult anymore.

She wasn’t supposed to worry.

She didn’t worry.

Dave sighed, shaking his head with a good-natured chuckle as he glanced toward the café staff. A few nearby patrons had already started whispering, their eyes darting toward the growing puddle beneath Molly’s chair. He caught the eye of a barista, offering an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about this," he said smoothly, his tone warm but firm, the way a responsible caretaker would explain a toddler's accident. "She’s still getting the hang of things."

The barista, a young woman with tired eyes and a sympathetic expression, only nodded. "Don’t worry about it," she murmured, though her gaze flicked toward Molly, who was now squirming in her seat, fascinated by the way the damp fabric clung to her legs.

Dave turned his attention back to her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Alright, Mols," he said gently, slipping into the comforting role she now expected of him. "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?"

Molly only giggled, tilting her head up at him with big, unfocused eyes. "Mmmkay, Daddy," she lilted, the title slipping past her lips effortlessly, as if it had always been that way.

Dave’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but he didn't linger on it. Instead, he rose, moving around the table and helping Molly up. Her legs wobbled slightly, unsteady now that her adult coordination had slipped away.

As she stood, the full extent of her accident became clear. Her jeans were soaked, clinging to her thighs, the damp material darkened almost entirely down to her ankles. She looked down, blinking slowly at the mess, but there was no shame in her expression—only mild curiosity.

She poked a tiny finger against the wet denim. "Squishy," she declared with a giggle.

Dave grinned, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, kiddo. And that’s why we wear proper protection, huh?"

Molly giggled again, her gaze unfocused and dreamy. "Mmhmm!"

Dave led her toward the back of the café, past the staff-only sign. No one stopped them. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so confident, so sure of his authority over her. Maybe it was the way Molly so clearly wasn’t in charge of herself anymore, her small hand tucked securely into his, her posture loose and trusting.

Inside the staff restroom, a sight that would have mortified Molly just minutes ago now greeted her without a flicker of concern—

An adult-sized changing table.

Dave patted the cushioned surface. "Up you go, kiddo."

Molly obediently reached her arms up, letting him lift her onto the table without a second thought. She kicked her legs idly, her soaked jeans sticking to her skin, a little pout forming on her lips.

"Wan’ dry," she mumbled.

Dave chuckled. "That’s the plan, sweetheart."

With practiced ease, he peeled away her jeans, the damp fabric clinging for a moment before slipping free. He balled them up and set them aside, then made quick work of her sodden panties. Molly didn’t react, other than giggling as the cool air hit her bare skin.

She squirmed as he wiped her down with a warm cloth, but it wasn’t from discomfort—it was the way a toddler would squirm from tickles rather than modesty.

Then, he pulled out the final piece.

A puffy, pastel-colored Pampers—one big enough for her, decorated in soft patterns that made it impossible to mistake for anything grown-up.

Molly’s eyes widened, but not with the resistance she might have once had. No, this time, it was delight.

"Ooooooh!" she cooed, her fingers twitching eagerly.

Dave smirked. "Like it, baby?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically, reaching out to poke at the plastic shell as he unfolded it. "Is crinkly!" she giggled.

He lifted her legs effortlessly, sliding the padding beneath her before securing the tapes snugly at her waist. The thick bulk forced her legs apart slightly, and when he patted the front, she let out a soft, happy hum, wiggling against the plush comfort.

"There we go," Dave murmured, smoothing her shirt down over the top of her new, much more appropriate underwear. "All fresh."

Molly beamed up at him, wiggling her toes as she enthusiastically poked at the front of her new padding, fascinated by the way it crinkled under her touch.

"Dis is way better!" she declared, giggling as she gave the front a few experimental pats.

Dave laughed. "I thought you’d see it that way, princess."

Then, he picked up her jeans, inspecting the soaked fabric with a smirk. "Well, kiddo, looks like you’ll have to go without these for a bit."

Molly didn’t even blink.

If anything, she giggled, swinging her bare legs with delight.

The Molly from before—the one who had argued, who had frowned and questioned—was nowhere to be found.

She was just Mols now. A little girl in nothing but a crinkly diaper and her soft shirt, giggling as she prodded at the thick bulk between her legs.

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#goals

Mid Conversation Pushies

I kinda want to make the most adorably scrunchy face in the middle of a conversation while I absent-mindlessly fill my diaper with absolutely no shame.

I want to be so confident about using my diapers, that it's more normal to ask if i should be in plastic pants rather than if I can handle big girl pull-ups.....

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Lovely story featuring the work of Little Diapered Sunshine

Big Girl Tries So Hard

You watch her from across the room, arms crossed, amusement curling at the edges of your lips. She’s completely in her own little world, laser-focused, brows scrunched up in pure determination as she scoops another spoonful of mashed bananas from the colorful plastic bowl in front of her.

Her tiny rubber spoon wobbles precariously in her grasp, her little fingers gripping it just a little too tightly, but she steadies it—her tongue poking out in concentration. Slowly, carefully, she guides it to her lips.

Most of it actually makes it into her mouth this time, and she beams instantly, chewing triumphantly, legs kicking against the soft playmat beneath her.

“See, Daddy?” she chirps, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Told you I can do it all by myself!”

You smirk, tilting your head slightly, letting her soak in her self-proclaimed victory. She’s trying so hard to prove something to you, so desperate to show you she’s a big girl. But the scene in front of you tells a very, very different story.

Her bib—light blue, speckled with tiny yellow ducks—is already covered in little splatters of banana mush, a few streaks of orange from the carrots you’d tried to sneak into her meal. A small dribble clings stubbornly to the corner of her lips, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Too busy. Too determined.

But you see everything.

The way she’s sitting, legs spread in that familiar little way, completely at ease, completely comfortable. How she shifts every so often, absentmindedly bouncing just a little, and you hear it—the quiet squish beneath her.

She doesn’t even realize.

Doesn’t register the damp warmth pressing between her thighs, doesn’t notice the swollen bulk of her diaper pressing up against her tummy. She hasn’t checked, hasn’t fidgeted, hasn’t asked. She’s too lost in her moment, too caught up in trying to be something she isn’t.

She scoops another spoonful, but this time, she’s not as lucky. The mush wobbles, tipping over before she can get it to her lips, landing with a soft splat against her bib. She gasps dramatically, eyes wide, before quickly darting a look at you, like she’s expecting a scolding.

You only chuckle, shaking your head.

“Oopsie,” you tease, reaching forward to wipe the mess from her chin with a napkin.

She pouts, wiggling a little in protest. “I had it.”

“Of course you did, princess,” you hum, rubbing a thumb over the sticky spot on her cheek before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re doing such a good job.”

She preens at the praise, instantly forgetting the little accident, instantly grinning as she scoops up another bite.

And still—still—she doesn’t notice.

Not the state of her bib.

Not the mess clinging to her fingers.

Not the way her diaper sits, soaked and squishy beneath her, pressing into her skin, crinkling with every movement.

She doesn’t realize.

And that’s the best part of all.

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Young Lust

You can’t take it anymore. You need Daddy.

Tonight.

It’s been so long since Daddy let you have any big girl fun with him.

So very long.

Daddy stripped away every aspect of your adulthood, piece by piece, thrusting you into this infantile world of diapers, nap times, and Fisher-Price playsets.

Nothing but mind-numbing baby shows, toddler-level books, and never-ending nursery songs.

Everything but this.

He could take your potty-training, autonomy, and independence, but he could never take the one last piece of adulthood you have left.

Your desire.

After a year of permanent denial, of having your princess parts chronically ignored—except during diaper changes, Daddy would never let you get diaper rash on his watch—you almost wished he could take it.

The longer your diaper-clad chastity goes, the needier you become. Your mind is a hazy buzz of desperation. You can’t think straight.

All you want is to feel Daddy’s loving touch again. Even the thought of it send jolts of pleasure through your body. You’d do anything.

Anything.

You take a breath—and make your move.

“D-daddy…,” you whisper, suckling your binky with each pause and giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “I mith Daddy th-tho much…an..an…M all…w-wet…pwease, Daddy…”

Daddy smiles, pulling the waistband of your soggy diaper. “I can see that, kiddo! You’re Daddy’s little tinkle fountain!”

You wince, hating the infantile response to your adult request.

“N-not wi-wike da wet, Daddy…wike…mmm… da other wet.”

You can’t even ask like a big girl anymore.

But it doesn’t matter, this isn’t the time for pride. If being Daddy’s sweet princess will get you some big girl time, you’ll do it.

“Hmm,” Daddy ponders, sniffing the air, “Did you make a runny boom boom?” He prods at the seat of your diaper playfully.

Crinkles erupt as you squirm in embarrassment.

“Daddyyyyy! No poopieth! J-jus…I…well…”

“Well, what are you babbling about, sweet pea?” A sweet, innocent grin plastered on his face.

“I..I jus wa..wan Daddy l..like how m used tah get tah haves Daddy! M..miss him so much.”

Daddy boops your nose.

“Babygirl, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?”

You perk up. “W-weally, Daddy?”

Daddy’s hand rests ever so gently on your diaper. You shudder in anticipation.

“Of course you are, kiddo! But I don’t think you’re quite mature enough for that, yet. You’re far too sweet and innocent for such things!”

Your body deflates like a popped balloon.

“B-bu am big girl, Daddy, pwomith!”

“No, honey, you’re my silly babbly baby who has no need for such impure thoughts. Why else do you think Daddy only gives you binky kisses and plays with your hair?”

“D-don know, Daddy…”

“Well, baby, it has been a long time since you were a big girl hasn’t it? And you’ve been so well behaved without any fun with your princess parts. You must be sooo needy by now, huh?”

Your eyes light up. “Y-yeth, Daddy! T-tho tho needy for you! Good girl!”

“Yes, kiddo. A very good girl, giving up all your fun for your diapies! Just like a good baby should. I think you deserve a treat. What do you think?”

You’re practically bouncing with joy.

“Yeth pwease, Daddy!! Pwease pwease pwease!”

Daddy sits up, smiling ear to ear.

“Why don’t you come rub your soggy diaper on my leg, honey? Show me how thankful you are to make some cummies for Daddy!”

Daddy doesn’t have to tell you twice!

You’ve been so hopelessly denied for so long, even the prospect of humping your diaper on Daddy’s leg gets your diaper wet again.

“Good girl, just like that, babygirl. Make your crinkles for me. Prove how desperate you are to be a big girl.”

You straddle Daddy’s leg, positively vibrating in anticipation. Daddy grabs your waist, looking deep in your eyes.

“F-Fank you, Daddy,” you say before your hips start gyrating.

The effect is immediate.

You scream in pleasure—pleasure that’s been denied for so long. It feels better than anything you’ve ever felt in your life.

Nothing matters but the soggy mush squelching against your princess parts. You feel Daddy beneath it.

Daddy.

“D-dadddy!!!”

Twenty seconds after you start, a wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

Pure bliss.

As the world slowly starts reformulating, you see Daddy smiling at you, eyes full of love.

“Awww, someone loves her diapies, don’t they, Princess? Daddy loved your crinkle symphony, too! You’re so adorable, little one!”

You try to catch your breath, a mix of embarrassment at your actions clash with the ecstasy of your orgasm.

“C’mon, babygirl. Let’s get you changed out of that icky diapie.”

Daddy won’t tell you, but it’s all going exactly according to plan. You’ll do anything—anything—for that again. Even if it means going further and further into your second babyhood.

Daddy’s obedient diaper girl.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

I have a bib kink

That's great!

Seriously, we don't control what clicks with us, and it's really cool to hear just how many different things resonate with kinksters in this community. There are guys and gals (and everything in between) who love diapies, pacis, onesies, bibs and bonnets, story time and nap time and playtime (though who doesn't love playtime?), the feeling of getting one's bottom spanked or patted or squished. Any one of these things can excite, any one of them can be the symbol of submission puts us in a different headspace and makes us (sometimes) all tingly inside. And that's just within AB/DL. Across the wide and wonderful kink universe, there are those who get just as excited for whips and ropes and chains and cuffs, for chastity belts and for collars or even for plain old belts and suits! Anything can be a fetish, an object that carries the weight and meaning of dominance or submission or something sexual or special for its beholder. There is no one right fetish, and really this journey is all about finding what clicks with you and exploring that to its fullest.

Keep it kinky, my friends

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#TheMoreYouKnow

[THIS USER UNDERSTANDS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DOM/SUB AND TOP/BOTTOM]