2beeblake

[2beeblake]

When Daddy has had enough of your cheekiness for the day 

૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

Onesie: @DiaperU

[2beeblake]

She's so cute.

[2beeblake]

Let’s go out on a date princess….wear a short skirt…sit at the bar while I’m across the room. As guys approach you and begin talking with you the games will begin 😈😈

[2beeblake]

We hope you all had an amazing Valentine’s Day ❤️

We certainly did 🥰😉

[2beeblake]

Daddy padded me and sent me shopping 🥰

[2beeblake]

♡ xoxo, fae ♡

[2beeblake]

smol (:

new 🌶️ set HERE

[2beeblake]

help this dude out! he writes great abdl stories.

Very low on funds :(

With no Patreon I'm realy low on money so I'm asking for anything to help me out.

I'm still offering photo manipulated commisions starting at $15 USD

I can also offer clothing mods for the Resident Evil, DMC 5 and WWE2K23 games starting at $100 USD.

I'm offering custom short stories (mimimum of 2000 words) starting at $50 USD

I don't know if anyone would be interested but I can also offer custom photos or videos of myself padded, starting at $60 USD (I'm looking at starting a Just for Fans page where I will be posting images and videos of myself).

If you are wanting anything else custom made please let me know, like I said I'm pretty desperate at the moment so I'm up to do almost anything.

If you're interested in anything please send me a message

[2beeblake]

[2beeblake]

The Orphanage

An ABDL Horror story

COMPLETE CHAPTER ON Patreon.com/2BeeBlake

Ch I. Here

Ch II. Here

Ch III. Here

IV.

Well, this is off to a rip-roaring start.

Marcus didn’t know what to think. Christine’s behavior was jarring, especially since nothing in the remarkably infantile room they were leaving was even remotely scary. In fact, given that they were only still at the beginning of this show, Christine’s reaction was the most disturbing thing so far. Some blinky lights, stuffed animals, and a chick dressed like a baby. Not exactly horror show material. Don’t know why she freaked out so bad…

Only ever hanging out as friends of friends he didn’t know Christine terribly well, but in all the times he had seen her spooked and frightened (and that was rare enough) he had never seen her react to anything like that before. He remembered the amused mutterings in the crowd around him and Tyler quietly ribbing Kelly, comparing her costume to the oversized baby in a hushed voice and prompting a bemused smirk from his girlfriend in turn, but nothing scary enough to spook someone that badly.

As the door closed with a loud creak and a CLUNG! the group quickly spread into the next room. Like the previous, this room showed the underlying “base” decor of the Heartstead House which couldn’t be completely covered, and the level of mature and elegant sophistication in this room from the finely carved wooden statuettes to the wrought iron window panes betrayed the idea that this was supposed to be an orphanage. It was only slightly smaller than the last, moreso considering the entire far side of the room was a rectangular alcove lined from floor to ceiling with dusty books and encyclopedias, nearly all of which were bound in leathers stained brown and blue and black and red. They were sitting in cabinets behind metal mesh gates, organized neatly. Marcus suddenly noticed how warm it was in this room.

There was a fireplace in this room as well, sharing its brick back and chimney with the one they had just left behind. An intricately carved oak fireplace surrounded the brick of the fireplace, regal and royal and too fancy to be justified in any particular story way. However, the fire crackling away on the hearth didn’t seem as warm and welcoming as the last. It was off-color, and Marcus got the impression that the light flowing over the crowd and the room had somehow been stained with urine.

Sitting within the dark alcove end of the library were two square pens a few feet apart near the window, each containing a grumpy looking figure. Half silhouetted in shadow, two young men were wearing stained clothes that hid neither of their stomachs. Small cotton shorts did nothing to hide what were undeniably large diapers underneath. One pair of feet was bare, the other in thick socks with two toes poking through a hole on the left foot. They both sat arms folded and mouths curled up in angry pouts eyeing one another, each with their own pissed-off gaze.

Not as cute as the last one, that’s for sure.

The smell of soap and hygiene carpet into Marcus’s nostrils alongside the scent of burning wood logs. He looked up. Overhead, along lines that stretched out and overlapped and cris-crossed like a spider’s web across the ceiling, fabrics and clothes in many shapes and colors were dangling by their clothespins, and beneath them there was a man was standing at a small table with his back to the crowd. He was muttering to himself as he lifted clothes and fabrics out of a large hamper, holding them up to shake any just-laundered wrinkles loose, quickly folding them with a well-practiced gesture, and placing them in a second hamper to his side.

“...don’t know what’s gotten into you rotten-ass kids. Nothing we can’t fix, that’s for damn sure. You keep this up and see where it–” He caught the audience in his peripheral vision, then turned to the library end of the room and muttered, “Now you little bastards better behave,” before bringing his full attention to the group.

He was a man of average height with the beginnings of middle age starting to show in both his stature and in the thin wrinkles in his dark chocolate skin. He was slightly hunched and walked with a mild limp that echoed an injury from long ago. He moved right up to the edge of the group near Marcus and asked without any hint of preamble, “Which one of you folks knows how to fold clothes?”

The briefest of awkward silences fell on the group before the man turned to the nearest person which ended up being Marcus. He barely waited for a reply from anyone before putting a calloused hand on Marcus’s shoulder and guiding him gently but firmly away from the others. Marcus heard Tyler chuckle to himself. This close, Marcus could smell the ashy char of tobacco leaves and marijuana on his breath. Marcus wondered if this actor liked to work stoned. “Come here. Do me a favor and get to folding these. Don’t worry, I just cleaned them myself. Just fold them nicely and put them in a pile right over here. Think you can do that?”

“Uhh.. yeah, I–”

“Wonderful. Alright then everyone, they call me Chapal. It’s nice to meet you.”

The man named Chapal quickly turned his back on Marcus, leaving him to fold the clothes while the rest of the group was addressed. Marcus heard chuckles behind him as Chapal spoke to the rest of the group, excluding Marcus completely, and he even felt himself grinning in amusement to be the butt of the joke for this scene. Looking down at the baby-printed fabrics, he gingerly picked up one of the shirts like it was contaminated with some contagious disease and held it up to let the weight of the fabric unfurl itself.

He was holding a legless onesie bodysuit with four metal snaps at the crotch. It was patterned with kittens and puppies and was surprisingly soft. It only took a moment to realize that it was large enough to fit an adult. Beneath his fingers the material felt smooth and soft and far stretchier than it had any right to be. Then thoughts of the garment’s function outweighed its fashion, and Marcus realized what was in his hands. Something about touching an adult-sized onesie made his skin crawl. This wasn’t helped as he lifted the next onesie up to unfurl it and saw that the white parts of the toy train pattern was slightly stained yellow near the leg holes. He scoffed to himself to try to allow bemusement and humor to swallow the feeling of cringe sliding up his arms.

“Don’t worry,” Chapal was saying, “you didn’t catch me at a bad time. These two got a little too rowdy, and now they’re in time-out. See this here? Nicholas, Nigel, show these nice folks what you been up to.”

The two grumpy boys rolled their eyes and turned their heads to the audience with disinterest. Chapal slid quickly over to Nicholas and Nigel and in a fluid motion he pressed a finger under one chin.

“See this here?” he asked the crowd, tilting the boy’s head up, “This is the kind of behavior we don’t tolerate here.”

Marcus could see the beginnings of a black eye beginning to surface. The other had a cut and swollen lip. In the firelight, Marcus could just barely make out the dark brown speckles near the collar of his shirt of something that once used to be brilliantly scarlet.

“Program’s supposed to help put an end to this kind of crap. Don't let this frighten you, though. Our kids are mostly well behaved. They only get put in time-out on rare occasions. This here,” Chapal displayed, gesturing to the room, “is where the staff kick back from time to time or take care of our daily duties. Mostly laundry as you can see. The grown-ups need a break too, am I right? We need our own little time-out every now and then too. How’s that folding coming along?”

Marcus, having been still examining the two boys out of the corner of his eye and was only half listening, snapped back to his assignment with a small “hep! My bad!” for an apology. Chapal took a moment to be satisfied Marcus had resumed before continuing. “Yessir. I’ve seen it all, too. What these boys are doing isn’t anything new. It looks like they caught the love bug a little early. Cupid shot more than one ass cheek and now they both have eyes for the same girl.” Chapal had leaned into the group closely at this, barely trying to contain his amusement. He let out a wild chuckle, and his whole demeanor seemed to soften as he turned back to the overgrown toddlers with smug amusement. “Isn’t that right boys? That caveman instinct comes right out, doesn’t it? That’s neanderthal stuff. We don’t do that here. Can you say, “ne-an-der-thal”?

And then, taken aback and freezing half way through folding a pair of huge fleece footed pajamas, Marcus froze...

[...]

COMPLETE CHAPTER ON Patreon.com/2BeeBlake

Blake

[2beeblake]

Download the template below and submit with your own design! The winner will be chosen by Patreon subs and have their design featured in the upcoming Youthrift pt 3, as well as win the entire BabyLand Chronicles Prelude for FREE!!

ENTRY WINDOW CLOSES 6/30

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POLL CLOSES 7/14

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Baby Bombshells - Kimi Finster

For the full version and more exclusive art, Join the Patreon!!

[2beeblake]

An ABDL Horror story by Blake Rose

Chapter I. Here 

Chapter II. Here 

.

III.

Christine hated pastels.

Having grown up with two older brothers and a single father, she had grown up preferring video games and comic books over dolls and make-up.

In a family of swearers, cursers, and no-bullshitters she learned very quickly to thicken her skin. She watched and played sports with them, learned about D&D and Playstation from them, studied for school with them. Donny was older than her by one year, Joseph by five. Donny was pretty good at art while Joseph preferred mathematics, and the two of them would usually be willing to help her study for big tests or help her with school projects. There were times when they fought, of course but luckily those were few and far between. She sometimes thought that maybe her two siblings and their affinities for fiction and fact respectively were the reason why she liked sci-fi and fantasy. She didn’t know why, but any time she would read about some magical and/or sci-fi substance like truth serums or magical potions she always found herself wondering, “how would that work, exactly?” It was a big part of why she found chemistry so interesting, and while other girls liked horoscopes and zodiacs, Christine found alchemy a much more interesting pseudoscience. She knew the claims of alchemy were all factually garbage, but she still liked to humor herself by engaging in thought experiments like turning lead into gold. What components would be needed? How much energy? How much magic combined with what kind of science?

This wasn’t the kind of thing she could talk about with many other girls growing up, and Barbies weren't her thing.

She remembered hearing stories about how even when she was very young she would find herself gravitating towards Donny’s toys instead of hers. She would ignore the dolls and stuffed animals she was given every birthday and Christmas, until after her fifth birthday when her parents finally informed the family to stop sending her pink fluffy things. “She doesn’t play with them. Ever,” her mother admitted with a sigh.

A moment ago, she was rolling a red fire truck back and forth along the carpet, perfectly recalling the sound of the electronic siren emanating from within and striking her eardrums like a long-forgotten song. She never liked soft, cutesy things.

So standing here in this room made her rather… uneasy.

The group was standing on a winding stretch of hardwood floor which curved between two large, semicircular areas that were quarantined off by waist-high gates. The hardwood path led to the other end of the room which stretched about forty feet away. The far end of the room seemed to be coated in shadow, or at least it felt that way with the stone fireplace crackling and glowing gently casting the room around it into deep contrast. This was aided by the empty rocking chair and a small coffee table, sending long shadows down the room toward them.

It took only a moment of adjustment for Christine to realize that the waist-high gates arcing widely across the floor were the long walls of playpens. Within these two quarantined areas were several enormous mounds of plush and fur. Stuffed animals three feet long lay in piles against the walls of the room and dangled in mesh hammocks suspended across the corners of the ceiling. Large, soft infant’s toys littered the spaces within, which were shielded from the hardwood floor by thick multicolored mats.

In the playpen on their right against the corner of the room, a gargantuan white teddy bear loomed like a sentinel. It must have been fifteen feet tall at least, silent and still like a statue carved out a block of solid cloud. It was sitting upright but slouched over, its massive bean-bag sized head resting on its enormous belly looking down on the room with glossy amber eyes the size of hubcaps. Its legs were splayed wide and in its lap was a bundle of blankets, pillows, and squishy toys.

As the shiver of discomfort slithered up her spine, Christine had to give it to them. You had to put the bear there, huh? Position it just like that, peeking out from the darkness. As if this room wasn’t creepy enough now I have to deal with that thing staring at me.

The two penned areas were lit by small comfortable spotlights, and as the shadows cast by the fire from down yonder approached, they seemed to be swallowed by the soft brightness.  The enormous teddy bear looming above them, however, still had its head resting in shadow. The brightness of the spotlights and the flickering of the fire twinkled off its eyes. They seemed to glow from out of the shadows high above them. Christine’s skin crawled as she looked up at the smiling plush face. For a moment she felt small, not only in stature but in spirit. For a moment, as she looked up at the fluffy monolith, she felt diminished, reduced, powerless as the light twinkling in the stuffed bear’s eyes.

She never liked kids. The scientist in her was repelled by them. Things like the children’s section of a doctor’s waiting room would skeeve her out. Kids were germ factories, and despite the wonderfully clean fragrance of firewood and baby powder, just stepping in this room immediately made her want a flu shot. Nurseries creeped her out the most.

Well, except mine of course, she recalled, having just gotten back from a trip down memory lane. She made a mental note to find the actor who played Marko and ask him where he learned to do that. With a burst of regret she shook her head. I don’t know how the others are taking it so far, but if nothing in this show scares me, my cringe bucket is pretty full. Shit.. and we’re only one room in…

After a few moments of silence and stillness and with no indication of what they should do otherwise, some of the audience tentatively began to walk down the hardwood path between the playpens. Far away, the fireside rocking chair and distinctly adult decor looked like the promised land to Christine. Let me guess: someone is going to read us a story? Already near the back of the group, and held up by everyone walking so damn slowly including Kelly and Tyler, she was standing beside Marcus trailing behind Kelly and Tyler, and as much as Christine would like to quickly make her way to the other less fluffy side of the room, the path was only wide enough for about two people side by side.

As the crowd moved down their little yellow brick road, a sudden small rustling emanated from the playpen. Audience members turned to look and hushed voices again began to travel through the air.

“Oh shit…”

“Wow!”

“Oh jeez. That’s wild…”

Unfolding from inside the bundle of blankets tucked between Teddy-zilla’s legs, a small little girl rolled softly out and onto the soft mat beneath her. Until now she had been so still and quiet that she seemed to have just been part of the pile of blankets.

Then Christine began to take in the young girl’s appearance more completely.

She must have been no more than five feet tall. Not slender but certainly nowhere near overweight, she seemed to have rounder and fuller features. Her strawberry blonde hair was thin and wispy, pulled into two pigtails and bound with ribbons tightly near her scalp. A few strands of hair hung loosely over her hazel green eyes. She wore a pink t-shirt with seafoam green trim around the neck and arms and looked thick enough to be fleece. It barely reached past her sternum. Her feet were capped in what looked like thick hand-knit pink socks. Her skin looked soft, and with her bare arms and legs, Christine couldn’t spot any tattoos, scars, or blemishes. Not even a beauty mark. Her mouth was rhythmically bobbing up and down, the nipple of a large pacifier stuck between her teeth, but what kept drawing Christine’s eye was what she was wearing around her waist.

Jesus fuck… they really make diapers THAT big?

[...]

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Blake

[2beeblake]

Let it never be said that those of us in the Kink/Fetish/AlterLife do not appreciate the sacrifices made by the brave men and women in our military. They endure hell on earth to protect our freedom to live our lives are twisted and kink and strange as we want to.

Take a moment today to honor their sacrifice

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