destinedfordiapers

[destinedfordiapers]

If I Fell

“Honey, it’s just a poopy diaper, nothing to fuss about. Mommy will make it all better. No more icky bottom!”

She says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

As if anything about this is normal.

Yet, with each passing day, you find it harder to resist. Harder to maintain your grasp on your former life. Harder to remember your adult life.

She floods your senses with the evidence of your new life. Forcing you to confront the inescapable proof of your new reality.

You look around the room that used to be your office. Had you not known, you never would have guessed it used to be an elegant, sophisticated monument to your past success. Your sanctuary.

Every trace of its former glory now scrubbed away, replaced by…this.

A room nobody would ever consider sophisticated.

Pastel blue paint replaced the elegant wallpaper you loved so much. Stacks of books—philosophical tomes, political theories, and complex legal analyses—unceremoniously replaced with stacks of thick, colorful diapers awaiting their turn wrapped around you.

Your office chair became a rocking chair. Your antique desk swapped for a changing table. Your mahogany hardwood floors covered by foam matting.

But even closing your eyes won’t help escape the onslaught.

The tell-tale smells of babyhood permeate the room. That lingering smell of poopy diapers mixing with the infantile scent of baby powder. Your nose haunted by the ghosts of diapers past.

And, right now, the unmistakable scent of a diaper in desperate need of change.

Nor can you escape the tactile reality of your situation. You feel the rapidly cooling, increasingly uncomfortable mess in your diaper. The fuzzy, full body embrace of your footed pajamas.

Her hand squeezing your diaper.

You hear the subtle crinkles of your diaper over the nursery songs that seemingly never end.

You taste the rubber of your binkie as you suckle—not even realizing how much it soothes you.

But its not the sensory assault of babyhood that makes your last grasp of adulthood so tenuous.

It’s her.

“Look baby, Mommy has a brand new diapie right here. Soon you’ll be all clean and free of your icky yucky poopoo. Doesn’t that sound nice? Let’s get you out of these jammies and change that diapie.”

Your wife.

Not that it matters anymore. The only trace of your marriage—of your time as equal, loving spouses—is the wedding ring on her finger.

She is Mommy now. Your Mommy.

This was never the plan. The plan was always to have kids of your own. To build a loving, happy family together.

Yet here you are.

You can’t help but wonder why she still wears her wedding ring. Because one thing is abundantly clear: she does not consider you her spouse.

To her, you are nothing but an overgrown baby who depends on Mommy to fulfill their basic needs.

Her silly, babbling pamper packer.

You have absolutely no idea how long it’s been since she acknowledged your past relationship or former adulthood.

Time exists differently when you live your life in a nursery. There are no clocks. No calendars. Nothing to mark the passing of time but filling of your diaper pail.

There are no phones in the nursery. “Babies don’t need phones!”

No job to occupy your day. “Your only job is to fill your diaper and fill Mommy’s life with laughter!”

No parties and alcohol to mark milestones. “All you need is a baba of milk and your itty bitty nursery pals!”

No sporting events or movies to pass the time. “Mommy isn’t gonna raise an iPad kid. Mommy will read you a book instead.”

She leans you back, not even bothering to bring you to the changing table. Mommy has everything she needs right here.

As she rips open your diaper, she sings, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey.”

An overwhelming feeling of peace and comfort washes over you. Mommy’s beautiful voice and gentle touch working in harmony.

Happiness bubbles out of you. Filling every nook and cranny of your body.

“There’s my happy baby! Mommy missed that beautiful smile!”

You try and remember what you were just thinking about. It felt important.

But…what’s there to worry about when Mommy is here, smiling down at you?

As long as Mommy is here, you have everything you need.

“You’re Mommy’s special baby. Now and forever. Always.”

And you couldn’t be happier.

Photo Credit: DaddyIWantThis, who appears to be deactivated. Which is a significant bummer.

[destinedfordiapers]

I Write Sins Not Tragedies

“Let me get this straight. After all your begging and pleading you want to go back to the way things were? And what? Pretend none of this ever happened?

More than anything you’ve ever wanted.

“I don’t think so, buddy. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

You look into her eyes, searching for hope. Any sign of mercy. Of the love you used to share.

“Please,” you beg, “I’m sorry. I don’t want this anymore. I want you. Only you! I’ll never wear another diaper in my life if that’s what it takes!”

“You don’t get it, do you? It’s too late for that. This isn’t a game anymore—this is real. You’re getting everything you wanted.”

And lost only woman you ever loved.

“I…I was wrong. Please, Mary. I…I need you!”

Her chortle cuts through you like glass.

“Are you kidding? I did everything you wanted. I put you in diapers 24/7. I denied you sex. I…I even had sex with some random dude for you…”

She pauses, clearly struggling.

“I did it because I loved you. I literally wiped poop off your butt. I stopped having sex with the man I loved most. I broke my vow—the one I made to you on our wedding day—to forsake all others. For you. Because I loved you. I wanted you to be happy!”

The weight of her feelings threatens to crush you.

“I was selfish! I was…so…so dumb! Mary, please! You have to understand. You’ll never have to do any of that again! We can fix this!”

“No, we can’t. You’re not getting it. I don’t want to have sex with you ever again. Did you really expect me to be sexually attracted to you after all this?”

You never considered it at all. All in the pursuit of your kinks.

“Don’t say that! You’ll remember how things were after all the diapers are gone and things go back to normal. This isn’t the real me!”

“But that’s the thing…this is the real you. This is who you really are. The diapers. The denial. You were just pretending before.”

“I wasn’t pretending! I was—I am—that man you married! They’re just kinks! I don’t need them!”

“Well it doesn’t matter, does it? Just because you got all turned on seeing me in my bikini and decided you regret asking for this—doesn’t mean I want to be with you. They’re a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“But I want to be with you! Please!”

“Well…,” she says slowly, playing with her bikini, “I have missed you. Missed you inside me. It’s been so long…Oh, screw it, let’s go upstairs.”

You’ve never moved faster in your life.

“Okay! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

She reaches out her hand. You grab it, intertwining your fingers. Her touch—the implication—is short-circuiting your brain.

You’re about to have sex with the woman of your dreams for the first time in months.

You missed her more than you ever imagined. Sure, it was fun at first. Having her tell you “no.” But it got old fast.

Denial was hot—she was hotter.

You practically carry her upstairs, tossing her down on the bed, leaning over her. Doing everything you can to show her you’re the man she married.

Until you lean in to kiss her.

“Wowww, you really are dumb. What part of ‘I have absolutely no sexual attraction to you’ do you not understand?”

You fall to the bed, humiliated and overwhelmed.

“So, what now?” you ask, voice cracking pathetically, terrified of the answer, “Are you going to divorce me?”

“Divorce? Who said anything about divorce, silly? No, we’re not breaking up. Someone needs to pay the bills!”

“I’m not going to ju—,” you start before she interrupts you.

“You’ll do whatever I say, honey. You’re getting everything you ever wanted. You’ll spend the rest of your life in diapers, desperately horny for me. So pathetically horny. Just what you begged for. Hopelessly and permanently sexless. Isn’t that the dream? And you can drive me to and from my dates, rubbing your diaper when I’m gone imagining your warm padding is me.”

You’ve imagined this so many times, but now that it’s here, you’re terrified.

“And if I say no?”

She giggles. “You won’t, baby. Because you wouldn’t want all your silly little pictures sent far and wide would you? Whether you stay or go—you’ll never have sex again.”

The reality of truly becoming that pathetic, sexless diaper boy isn’t so hot—when it’s staring you in the face.

Not like you have any choice in the matter.

“You’re going to live your out your life as your authentic self! I really hope you remember what I look like naked, cause you’ll never see that again.”

She gets up, laughing.

“Oh, this is going to be so very fun!”

You got everything you ever wanted.

[destinedfordiapers]

Truth Hurts

“Ugh, she’s so annoying,” you think to yourself.

You watch as she takes an endless stream of selfies, giggling as she sends them to someone. Probably her boyfriend. Not like she told you.

And now this ditsy, bratty girl is your authority figure.

The reason shouldn’t be surprising to you. You are, after all, standing in a poopy diaper hoping she’ll finally put down the phone and change you.

She giggles again as her phone rings. “Whaaat,” she says in a whiny, playful voice, “I am! She’s right here!”

A smile grows as she’s talking to whoever’s on the line.

“But she pooped! Like her diaper is brown! It’s disgusting! You didn’t say she poops herself! Isn’t she older than me?”

Her smile fades for a split second before it’s replaced by a more deviant grin. She bites her lip.

“Or what? You’re going to spank me? Make me go down on you? Oh no! I’m soooo scared!”

Whatever the response was, it got her attention. Her eyes grow wide.

“Fineeeee, whatever. I’m going! Hmpff.”

She puts down the phone, turning her attention to you.

“Ugh, why are you even in diapers? You’re so pathetic. And you, like, poop in them, too? Just…gross.”

You stand there, feeling your face grow red, deciding what to say. Every part of you wants to argue with this little brat who thinks she’s so special.

But you remember what Daddy said before he left. What would happen if you misbehaved.

It’s not worth it.

“Just change me,” you demand, more forceful than you expected. To soften the blow, you add, “Please?”

“Don’t act a brat, sweetie. You’re in a poopy diaper. It’s literally right there, drooping down like a baby. You should be thanking me.”

“I guess you would know. You sounded like a brat on the phone!”

It came out before you could stop it. She deserved it, though!

“Honey, that was my boyfriend. I can be a brat because it’s our thing, you know? Well, probably not. Judging by that diaper I doubt you’ve ever had sex and I’m not gonna waste my time explaining adult fun to you, poopy diaper girl.”

Her comment hits you like a ton of bricks. You fight to control your temper.

“I’ve had sex before!” you splutter. You wince at how pathetic you sounded.

She laughs. A full-body laugh that would make a comedian proud to receive.

You’ve never felt smaller in your life.

“I doubt it, sweetie. You spend your life in diapers. You sleep in a crib. You have a changing table for fucks sake! Not even the most desperate, horny dude would look at you right now and want to fuck you!”

Tears well in your eyes. Deep down, you know she’s right—you haven’t had sex since the first night you asked your boyfriend to diaper you.

“Onesies aren’t sexy, honey. This is!” she laughs pointing to her outfit, “I can be a brat to my boyfriend because it drives him wild. It’s fun to be ‘punished.’ And always ends with us fucking like animals.”

She pats your diaper.

“What do diaper changes end with? Raspberries on your tummy? The lingering smell of baby powder? All I know is it’s not an orgasm.”

“I..I..” you whimper.

“Awww, don’t cry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, little one. I’m sure warm, soggy diapers feel just as good as sex! If you even remember. I guess I got confused because you’re adult sized. But you’re really just a big baby!”

She laughs again, grabbing the paci dangling from your onesie and puts it in your mouth.

“There, kiddo. You just sucky suck on your paci. It’s all you’ll ever get. Poor girl. Sad about her poopy diaper. Jealous her babysitter gets to be a big girl while you…do whatever you do in your nursery. I don’t really care.”

All you can do is stand there, tears rolling down your cheeks, accepting everything she said is true.

Because it is.

“Don’t worry, your Daddy will be here first thing tomorrow morning. He was so excited about his date! And he deserves it. It must be annoying changing your diapers all the time!”

She laughs again. “Speaking of, let’s get this over with. Hop up changing table, kiddo. And try not to squish your poopoo. I’m not gonna spend all night wiping some big baby’s tushie.”

[destinedfordiapers]

Karma

“Brooke, honey? What did I say about swimming into the deep end without your floaties?”

You wince at her words, the infantile tone of her voice.

“I can swim, you know!” you retort, splashing the water in frustration.

“Drop the attitude, honey. You’ve been swimming for a while. Time to check your diaper.”

“Fineee,” you whine, “Only cause I’m thirsty anyway!”

Maggie just laughs at your silly little display. She knows you’ll huff and you’ll puff, but you’ll always obey.

Like the obedient little diaper girl you are.

You waddle over to Maggie, shaking slightly from the cold. You no longer care about the swim diaper bulging out of your pink swimsuit.

Maggie wraps a towel around you, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

“Did you have fun swimming, dear?” Maggie asks sweetly.

“Yeah!” you answer.

“Any poopies?”

“Maggie!” you shout as she adjusts your swimsuit and pulls back your swim diaper, “I didn’t!”

As if you knew.

You’ve long since stopped paying attention to the state of your diaper.

“All clean!” Maggie says in a proud disbelief, “Good job, Brooke!”

Maggie hands you a Sunny D and sits next to you. You greedily gulp it down.

“I’m so proud of you, Brookie,” Maggie says with that same maternal twinge you hate, “Did you know that? I’ve been your best friend since kindergarten and have never been prouder of you.”

You look at her, confused. “Proud? Wh-why?”

“Because, silly goose, you adjusted to your new life so well! I thought you’d struggle and fight! Yet, look at you! You’ve turned into such a well-behaved diaper girl for your Daddy!”

Your new life.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. You think about your descent into diapers. Your loss of autonomy. The conversation when your husband became Daddy.

Despite wanting to run and hide, you look into Maggie’s eyes, mustering as much pride and dignity as you can. “Th-thank you, Maggie.”

“You’re very welcome, cutie pie. And now that you’re right where you belong, I have something to tell you.”

Something about her tone made you weary. “Tell me what?”

“It was me, Brooke.”

Your heart skips a beat. Maybe two.

“What was?”

“Everything. All of this. This was all my idea. I was the one who convinced your Daddy you’d be happier being regressed. I found the medicine that put you permanently back in pampers.”

It was her?

“Wh-why would y-you d-d-do that?” you stutter, barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t act so surprised, sweetie. You were always so immature it’s not a big loss. And someone as immature as you deserves this. But they definitely don’t deserve someone like your husband.”

“I’m not immature!” you squeal, stomping your feet, “Not! Not! Not!”

Maggie laughs. “Sure, Brooke. Besides he was supposed to get with me, not you. We met him at the same party and I said I was gonna get a drink and go talk to him. And what did you do?”

You look at her, eyes wide in realization. This is some sick revenge. “I-I…but he was perfectly happy with me!”

“Then why did he send you back to diapers? I barely had to convince him! You’d think he’d want his wife diaper free if he wanted to be with her! But he sent you right to the nursery without a second thought.”

“No! He loves me! Not you!”

“Honey, of course he loves you! Why do you think he changes your diapers and makes sure you’re cared for? He just…doesn’t see you as a woman anymore. You’re…well, this.”

A diaper-dependent baby reliant on her Daddy.

“It’s not fair! I don’t want to be a baby! I want my Dadd—I mean Husband!”

“It’s too late for that, little one. You’re in diapers now. Permanently. You’re Daddy’s special girl. But that part of your life is over. You’re too regressed to be in an intimate relationship, sexual relationship. You have your stuffies now.”

It’s too much for your little head. You grab the towel and hide your head. Looking—and acting—every bit like the regressed baby you’ve become.

“Awww, is my little Brooke throwing a tantrum?” Daddy laughs, rubbing your back.

“Hey, hun,” Maggie says, “I was just telling Baby Brooke she’s gonna have a new Mommy.”

You’re on the verge of yelling until you hear the unmistakable sounds of kissing.

Daddy was kissing Maggie.

The implications shatter you. Your husband clearly doesn’t see you as a woman. As a sexual partner. Not anymore. This isn’t cheating to him because you’re not someone capable of being cheated on.

To him you are a baby. There’s no coming back from this. You’ve regressed past the point of no return.

And then there’s Maggie. Your “best friend.” Your Maid of Honor. Who doomed you to a second babyhood all because your husband chose you over her all those years ago.

The worst part is you’ll never escape. You’ll be in your crib helplessly filling your diapers while Maggie sleeps with your husband.

Treated like a helpless, needy baby. Listening to them coo you while you’re on the changing table, messy diaper permeating the room.

She won. You’re status as a pamper packer is inescapable.

“Isn’t that wonderful, Brooke?” Daddy asks, “You have a Mommy! Now we’re one happy family!”

“No!” you squeal wildly, “She did this! She wanted me to be a baby so she could get with you Daddy! She’s lying to you!”

Daddy sighs. “No, honey, she’s not. She told me everything. And she was right. I deserve a real woman. And you deserve loving caregivers and clean diapers. This way everyone wins!”

Except you.

Daddy moves the towel from your head. You see Daddy and Maggie looking down at you like a tantruming toddler.

A silly, helpless diaper girl.

“Come on, Brooke,” Daddy says, “You’re going to love your new life!”

“I promise, honey,” Mommy adds, “We’re one big, happy family now!”

[destinedfordiapers]

The Curse of Curves

You made it.

A small victory, sure, but you’ll take it anyway. The gift of privacy. Well, relative privacy. At least you won't have an audience.

Your tummy rumbles, the pressure building. It’s only a matter of time. You wait for the inevitable.

“There you are! I was wondering where you snuck off to.”

You whimper, knowing what's about to happen.

Her gaze is sweet and innocent.

“Now that it’s our one-year ‘anniversary,' I’ve been dying to ask you something.”

She steps forward. So close you can smell her coconut shampoo. The scent seared into your brain. You crave it.

As always, you fail to resist the urge to stare at her breasts. Your eyes cannot pull away, as if her chest has its own gravitational pull.

She smiles at the desperate longing in your eyes. At the subtle crinkles of your diaper as you dance. Silently laughing at you.

At what you’ve become.

“What’s worse: the denial or the diapers?”

She takes another step forward. Her eyes locked on you. You feel her breath on your neck, her body grazing yours, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through you.

She’s so very close now.

“What’s it like being with me, day after day, feeling my touch, hearing my voice, seeing my body—knowing you’ll never be with me? Is it humiliating being so desperate for me while I don’t even see you as a sexual being?”

“Because you aren’t. You’ll never have sex again. Certainly not with me—but not with anyone. All you’ll ever have is your diapers. You’ll never orgasm outside of your thick, soggy diapers again.”

She grabs your diaper, squeezing it. Emphasizing your soggy shame. Your padded prison.

“This is the best you can hope for—your forever lover. In another world, you could’ve had me. But not this one. All you’ll ever have in this world is your soggy mush.”

She reaches out, closing your eyes with her fingers.

“Playing make believe that your warm, soggy diaper is me. Pretending it’s my body—not a peepee-soaked pamper. Fully aware how pathetic it is, but unable to stop yourself. It's must be mortifying when you finish. Realizing what you did but knowing its the best you'll ever get. ”

“Is it hard to look me in the eyes after that? Knowing I see you for what you are? What about my friends? Does it suck listening to their teasing, knowing everything they say is true? Because it is. You know that, right?”

Your tummy betrays you, rumbling louder than ever. She giggles when she hears it. At the terror in your eyes.

“Or is it worse knowing you’ll never be out of diapers again? That you’re permanently pampered. Doomed to suffer the indignities of diapers until the day you die?”

You toot, groaning in shame.

“It must suck to lose control over your own body like this. No matter how hard you try, how much you beg your body to hold it, you’ll still fill your diaper. Even when it’s just so humiliating.”

Like right now.

She grabs the front of your diaper. “Every sip of water and juice will end up right here, pooling in your padding until I decide to change you. Your legs slowly forced apart to accommodate your ever-expanding diaper.”

She slides behind you, patting your bum. You shiver as she presses herself against you. “Everything you eat on a one-way journey to the seat of your diaper. Right here. And it sounds like you’re about to pack this pamper.”

She giggles.

“You’re trapped in an inevitable, humiliating cycle you’ll never escape. Diapers are a necessary part of life now. Part of your body. For you, being ‘naked’ means no clothes except for your diaper because you’ll never be without one again.”

You groan as you squat.

She continues over the tell-tale bubbles that mean you’re filling your diaper. “See what I mean? You can’t help it.”

Your pathetic grunts interrupt her, proving her right.

“If it helps answer my question, I think your droopy, poopy diapers are every bit as adorable as the crinkles and moans when you hump my leg. I mean, look at you. All red from pooping yourself right in front of me. And that bulge? Stop. I can’t.”

“But then again, when I see the puppy-eyed desperation and longing in your eyes, I practically melt. You have no idea how beautiful you look at that moment. So…consumed in your impotent desire for me. Fighting to reconcile your hunger for my body with the sobering reality that it will never happen.”

“But in the end, I guess it doesn’t even matter, does it? Because this is your life. You get both either way.”

A devious, foreboding smile flashes across her face.

“You know, why don’t you come sit on my lap—poopy diaper and all—and pretend you get to see what’s under my shirt. Show me what I’m missing. Conduct your crinkle symphony for me.”

[destinedfordiapers]

Kiss From a Rose

“I think it’s sooo cute that you give a rose to every caregiver that changes your poopy diaper. It really is thoughtful.”

She sniffs the rose, exhaling loudly.

“Makes your smelly diaper much easier to handle. Plus, I think it’s good you have some connection to your old life. A reminder of who you used to be.”

You frown, hating every minute of being forced to put up with these comments. “Just change me, please,” you mutter with as much dignity as you can muster.

“Careful, sweetie,” she laughs, patting your diaper, “You ought to behave the way people of your station in life are expected to act. Sweet and docile. You obey—not demand.”

“I don’t have to put up with this,” you bluff.

More laughing. “It must be so difficult for you, poor guy. You’re haunted by your past, the ghost of the man you used to be.”

“I’m still the same man I was. This is temporary bullshit.”

“Yet, here you are. Begging me to change your poopy diaper. Obedient. Docile. Compliant.”

Anger flushes your face. She smiles at the mutinous frown on your face.

“It’s just…I,” you start, hesitating before she interrupts.

“Honey, I don’t care about your justifications. I’m not interested in what you tell yourself while your diapers get changed. All I know is that you used to be a confident, self-assured, and charming man. Now look at you.”

You try to get up. “I’m done with this.”

She merely giggles. Flashing a smile that doesn’t hide the menace in her eyes.

“No, you’re not. Lay down,” she hisses, “You’re done when this tush is clean and in a fresh diaper. But go ahead. See what your silly rebellion gets you.”

The icy tone of her voice sent shivers down your spine. You freeze, mulling it over before meekly laying back down, defeated.

“Good boy. That’s what I thought,” she coos, her voice warm and playful, “Let the past go. Forget the man you used to be. Embrace your second babyhood. Enjoy your place on the changing table.”

You hate the sickly-sweet tone almost as much as the threats that preceded it.

“I’m not a baby! Once I figure out my problems and get out of diapers, I’ll go back to being Sarah’s husband. You’ll see.”

More giggles. Horrible, painful giggles.

“Sweetie, you’ll never come back from this. Your life before diapers was a sham—a mask you wore. This right here,” she says, crinkling your diaper, “The messy diapers, the submission, the lack of autonomy is who you really are.”

She rips open your tabs before you can respond.

“Face it,” she continues, “You belong in diapers. Even if, by some miracle, you get out of diapers, it’ll be too late. Sarah—and all the other women who’ve babysat you—will never see you as anything more than this. A whimpering boy in a poopy diaper on the changing table.”

Your diaper is pulled back, exposing your shame. She grabs the rose and smells it again as the smell of your mess wafts stronger than ever. Cold wipes begin to clean your diaper area.

“I pity you. I really do. You’re so helpless now. People say it's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. But I don’t think that’s true for adulthood.”

She finishes wiping and rolls up your messy diaper. She plops it next to your head, landing with a pitiful, soul-crushing squelch.

“Is it better to have been an adult—a desirable, independent man—only to have it stripped away? Poof gone? Or would it have been better—more merciful—to have never seen sexual desire in a woman’s eyes?”

She grabs a new diaper.

“To have never known anything more than the maternal instinct of a woman caring for you. Protecting you. Changing you. Never treating you any different than the helpless, needy, broken boy you became?”

The sound of her fluffing your diaper fills the room. An infantile, pathetic sound that seems to prove her point.

“But what do I know? I’m no philosopher. Just a babysitter changing a baby’s poopy diaper. And don’t you worry your little head on it, either.”

The smell of baby powder hammers her point home. This is all you are to women now. All you’ll ever be.

She pulls up your diaper, carefully taping it into place.

“There, all clean!” she says, checking her watch, “Just in time for ni-ni! Oh, and my boyfriend will be over any minute, so I don’t want to see your diapered butt waddling out of your nursery. Got it?”

You just nod.

“Good boy. OH!” she squeals excitedly, “Maybe I can stream your baby monitor to the TV while we fool around! Damn, that would be hot!”

She giggles as she tucks you in, adjusting the baby monitor. Your shirt fails miserably at covering your diaper.

You wonder whether you should cover your face or diaper as the lights go out.

“Goodnight, baby.”

You wonder if it even matters.

[destinedfordiapers]

The Princess and the Frog

This caption is for @letsbebabies, a cute Princess and her loving Daddy! Go follow them if you don’t already!

You lay contentedly on your blanket, dressed in the cute, frilly onesie and bow Daddy loves so much. Outside, the songbirds sing their wonderful melodies, as your favorite episode of Bluey plays on the TV.

A sudden rumble in your tummy startles you out of your daze. The telltale grumbling that can only mean one thing.

You squirm in embarrassment, hoping Daddy isn’t around to watch you make pushies. It doesn’t how many times Daddy changes your dirty diapers, you’re always so embarrassed when he watches you fill your diaper.

Luckily, you remember Daddy’s in the kitchen, making your favorite dinner: mac and cheese. The delicious smell reminding you of your next meal.

You stand up, knowing this is your only chance for privacy. As you do, the pitter patter of your Mary Jane’s echo adorably around the room.

You never notice Daddy standing in the hallway, watching as you squat down and let the stinkies out into your diaper. He can’t help but smile as his adorable babygirl’s face grows red with effort, little grunts tickling his ears.

A few minutes is all it takes, leaving you with a full diaper and empty tummy. Red-faced but relieved, you waddle back to finish the episode of Bluey you love so much. Not wanting to smush the mess anymore than you have to, you lay on your tummy.

“Dinner’s ready, Peanut!” Daddy announces a few minutes later, walking in with two bowls of mac and cheese.

“Yay!! Maccy cheese!” you squeal delightedly.

As Daddy gets closer, his nose scrunches, dramatically sniffing the air. “Hmm, it smells funny in here, little one. Do you have anything to tell Daddy?”

Not wanting to admit the shameful secret in your diaper and needing the mac and cheese immediately, you decide to lie. “Nuh uh, Daddy! Maybe you just tooted!”

Daddy laughs, fully aware of the stinky in your diaper. “Well, okay, silly. But if that’s the case, why don’t you come eat on Daddy’s lap!”

“I…uh…that’s okay, Daddy! I wan’ eat here so I can watch Bluey!”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Peanut! You love eating mac and cheese on Daddy’s lap!”

Daddy has you trapped—and you know it. But you won’t admit you have a stinky diaper. “O-okay, Daddy,” you concede.

You slowly waddle over to Daddy, who’s sitting on the couch, smiling playfully. “Good girl,” he coos, reaching out his hand. You take it, cringing. You know what’s coming next.

You slowly—ever so slowly—lower yourself on Daddy’s lap, feeling your mess squish uncomfortably as you do. Daddy giggles, knowing he called his baby’s bluff.

“Okay, sweetie, let’s get these num-nums in your belly!” Daddy says, “but first, let’s get this bib on you! You’re such a messy eater!”

Daddy ignores your beet-red face of embarrassment as your bib is put on. “Open wide, here comes the choo choo train, baby!” he says, a spoonful of mac and cheese heading for your mouth. Every time you squirm, you’re reminded of the icky mess in your diapers.

On and on it goes until the bowl is finally empty, Daddy never mentioning the unmistakable smell wafting from your diaper.

“All done, little one! You did such a good job for Daddy eating all your dinner!” Daddy praises, “now, is there anything you want to tell Daddy?”

As much as you want out of your messy diaper, you’re still unwilling to admit what you did. “Nuh uh, can I go play Daddy?”

“Sweetie, are you fibbing right now? You know you need to tell Daddy everything. Littles should never fib—that’s naughty! And you’re not naughty, are you?”

“Daddy, no! Not fibbing. Wanna play!”

Daddy sighs. “I’m going to give you one more chance, Peanut. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“NO!” you scream, sounding like the petulant baby you are.

You knew you were in trouble the second Daddy looked at you. “Stand up, little one. I think you’re lying about your diaper.”

In a flash, you’re standing up, Daddy unsnapping the buttons on your onesie. Your diaper is pulled back, revealing the mess you’ve been poorly hiding.

“Peanut, I thought you said you didn’t have an icky diaper?”

“Daddy, stop!” you whine, “i-it’s n-nothing!” You try to squirm away from Daddy, supremely frustrated at being caught like this with a dirty diaper.

“Sweetie, come back here, please,” Daddy says sternly.

“No! No want changies!” you continue to whine, knowing you’re pushing your luck but unable to contain yourself.

Daddy gives you the look that sends shivers down your spine. The look that says, “I’m not mad, just disappointed.”

He knows you can’t help it. It’s almost your bedtime. A sleepy little and a dirty diaper is the perfect storm for a tantrum.

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!” you squeal, stomping your feet in anger.

Daddy doesn’t say anything. He slowly gets up, frowning. He wraps you in a hug. “Peanut, I know you’re frustrated, it can be so hard dealing with all these big emotions. But this is no way for a baby to act. I think you need a timeout to calm down.”

You want to scream at Daddy. He doesn’t understand! It’s unfair! But before you can, your pacifier is in your mouth, drowning out any resistance.

“Now, if you can be a good girl and stand in the corner for 10 minutes, we can forget this ever happened, okay? Can you do that for me, Peanut?”

“Y-yeth, Daddy,” you sniffled as your anger began to fade, replaced by a wave of shame and embarrassment.

“Good girl,” Daddy coos, “how about a stuffie to hold while you’re in timeout?”

“Wan’ fwoggy, Daddy,” you whisper through your paci.

“Froggy it is, little one,” Daddy says, disappearing for a few seconds before returning with your favorite stuffed frog.

You grab his hand as he leads you to the corner. A tsunami of guilt crashes over you, your eyes suddenly full of tears. “I-I-I s-sowwy, Daddy!” you wail, unable to control yourself, “I didn’t mean to!”

Daddy kisses your forehead tenderly. “I know, baby, I know. But actions have consequences. Like I said, if you’re a good girl, this will all be over in ten short minutes. I’ll change you into a clean diaper and get you ready for bed. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Mmhmm,” you sobbed through wet cheeks.

“Thank you, Peanut,” Daddy says, leaving you in your corner.

You stare at the wall so close to you, overwhelmed with guilt and sadness. Tears fall down your cheek as you promise yourself you’ll never make Daddy mad at you again.

You fidget uncomfortably in your diaper, the mess in your diaper beginning to get cold. Time feels like it slowed to a crawl.

Daddy watches you in the corner, overwhelmed at how adorable his babygirl is, even when she misbehaves. He won’t let you wait the full ten minutes—not with a messy diaper he needs to change. Daddy will never let you get a rash on his watch.

After a minute or two, he walks over, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you to face him. “Thank you for being a good girl, little one. I’m very proud of you!”

“Fank you, Daddy! I sowwy! I won’ ever do it again, I pwomith!” you assure Daddy.

“I know you won’t, Peanut! You’re Daddy’s goodest girl! Let’s go get you out of that stinky diaper!”

You waddle behind Daddy to the changing table, tears finally drying from your red face. You wipe the rest off your eyes, thankful you’re about to get a clean diaper.

As always, Daddy works quickly, getting all the ickies off you in a flash, the diaper change only periodically interrupted by Daddy blowing raspberries on your tummy, your laughter echoing around the room.

Your eyes grow heavy as the smell of baby powder tickles your nose. “Someone’s a sleepy baby!” Daddy coos.

You nod your head in agreement, too tired and content to use words anymore. Daddy dresses you in your favorite green onesie before carrying you back to bed. You look up at him, eyes full of love, your Froggy by your side as always.

“You want a baba before bed, little one?” Daddy asks.

You nod again. You’re half asleep by the time Daddy returns with your warm bottle of milk. He sits on the bed, nestling you in his lap, holding the bottle for you. As you suckle, your eyes grow heavy.

The last thing you remember is Daddy smiling down at you.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

[destinedfordiapers]

Ughies 🙈

DestinedForDiapers

Bio Age: 34 or 35… he’s not too sure. Math is hard for little brains!

Maturity: Silly, giggly, and full of playful mischief. Don’t let his age fool you—he’s much better suited for crayons than calculators.

Potty Untraining: Completely hopeless! Baby Bear can’t control his tinkles to save his life, constantly dribbling into his adorable Pampers. Poopy diapers are a regular feature too, especially during nursing time, when he’s known to grunt and push out his ickies like a true little one.

Little Age: Typically 4–5 years old, but he can regress to an even smaller 2–3 years. He always keeps his words though, so we don’t dare place him closer to 1–2 just yet!

Favorite Things:

Stuffy: Marlowe the stuffed cow, his cuddly companion for all adventures.

Comforts: Baby Bear melts for cuddles and milkies from Mommy, which make him feel safe and oh-so-loved.

Special Blushy Quirk: When he’s feeling extra shy, he uses his signature 🙈 emoji to express his adorable embarrassment.

Public Outings: He claims he doesn’t like being little in public… but he’s always secretly delighted when a neighbor pinches his cheeks and reminds him just how cute he is.

A Peek into Baby Bear’s Day

Nursing time is a constant reminder of just how tiny Baby Bear truly is. His blushy face and little squirms make it impossible not to see him for the little stinker he is. Baby Bear also loves testing boundaries—he’s a curious, rule-pushing rascal who needs a firm but gentle set of rules to guide him through his day. When he behaves, he’s the sweetest, most lovable boy anyone could ask for.

Of course, none of this would be possible without his amazing mommy, @tinkerbellinpullys. She keeps her Baby Bear in line and fills his world with love, comfort, and plenty of padded reminders of his place.

Disclaimer: Regression School reminds all prospective caregivers that the information above is as provided by the applicant. Truthfulness cannot be guaranteed, but the cuteness definitely can.

@destinedfordiapers

[destinedfordiapers]

Come Out and Play

This caption is @diapergirlstories idea. Who, despite being a more accomplished and talented writer, asked me to tell his adorable, blushy fantasy.

Alexis sighs, spinning in front of the mirror, looking at herself from every angle. “I don’t know, are you sure?”

“Stop. Are you kidding me, Alexis? You look so good in that bikini. There’s gonna be a hole in the ground where Brads’s jaw hits the floor!” Sadie said excitedly.

“Yeah,” Alexis grins, “You’re right. Ahh it’s just I haven’t been this excited for a vacation since…ever. A week with Brad in Cancun? Sign me the fuck up.”

“You deserve it!” Sadie says, adjusting Alexis’s top, “He’s not going to be able to keep his hands off you looking like this!”

“I hope not! Ugh, I just need a break from…” Alexis says, waving at her husband, “This.”

They both look at Spencer, still in his Spiderman pajamas, sitting in his tiny toddler chair, completely focused on the puzzle in front of him. So engrossed in his puzzle he doesn’t notice the adults watching him help Sadie’s little niece, Rebecca, find the missing piece.

“They are so stinking cute, though,” Sadie says.

“I know. I feel sorry for him, but he’s just so darn adorable now. I almost melted when I found those PJs at Target.”

“I can see why! You’d never know that little guy used to be your husband,” Sadie adds as Spencer squeals in delight.

“Well, it’s not all fun and games,” Alexis sighs, “He’s been such a little brat lately. It’s been a process getting him adjusted to his new place in life. And me dating Brad. So many tantrums.”

Spencer grabs a puzzle piece and inspects it, analyzing the half-finished puzzle. He unconsciously pushes the chair back and kneels, fidgeting as he decides where to place the puzzle piece.

“Found one!” Rebecca shouts, adding a piece to the puzzle.

“Good job!” Spencer says encouragingly, “You can almost see Elmo’s face!”

“Yeah!” Rebecca bounces, “Elmo! Elmo! Elmo!”

After a few more minutes, Spencer stops fidgeting. “There, all done with Elmo! Now we need yellow for Big Bird! See any?”

“Spencer, can you come here, please?” Alexis says in a stern tone.

Spencer doesn’t respond, staring with unfocused eyes at the puzzle, body rigid.

Alexis does her best to play it cool and not reveal that she had to put Spencer back in diapers after one too many accidents in his pull-ups. Part of her does it to protect Spencer’s remaining dignity. But selfishly, she doesn’t want Sadie to know she’s back on diaper duty.

“Spencer James, come here right now!” Alexis demands again.

“Chill out! I’m working on this puzzle!” Spencer argues with false bravado. He won’t Alexis treat her like some child in front of Sadie.

Spencer clings to the last shreds of his dignity like a drowning man holding onto a life preserver. Fights for the autonomy that’s slipping through his fingers.

Most of all, Spencer desperately needs the two beautiful, bikini-clad women to see him as a man. An adult.

Alexis doesn’t hesitate, marching straight to Spencer and picking him up.

“What the fuck, Alexis!” Spencer yells as he’s lifted into the air, legs flailing wildly, “Put me down!”

“What did I say about listening to me?” Alexis scolds.

Spencer squeals in embarrassment as he feels his pajama pants yanked down, revealing his soaked Luv's diaper drooping between his legs.

“Oh, wow!” Sadie gasps before a look of amusement flashes, “I didn’t know you put Spencer back in diapers. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ll explain in a bit,” Alexis says, “But first, I have to teach this brat a lesson.”

Spencer panics as Alexis sits down with him on her lap.“NO! Please! I’m sorry!” he shouts frantically.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Stop! I’m sorry!” Tears trickle down Spencer’s cheeks.

SMACK! SMACK!

Alexis stops. “Hmmm, wait a second. Spencer, did you…” she trails off, pulling back his diaper and looking in, “You did! I thought I smelled something!”

“Wait…he pooped?” Sadie gasped again, “He’s pooping his diapers now too?”

Spencer shoves his red face into Alexis's lap. A muffled whimper escapes, “I….I didn’t even know!”

“Give us a few minutes,” Alexis says to Sadie, wiping the snot from Spencer’s nose, “This little stinker needs a new diaper.”

Alexis carries Spencer off to his nursery, leaving Sadie in a bemused silence.

“Spency went poopoo?” Rebecca asks.

“He sure did, Becca!”

Alexis unceremoniously lays Spencer on the changing table in Spencer’s nursery. He looks up at Alexis, too embarrassed to speak. “Sadie knows I wear diapers…What am I going to do?” he thinks.

Spencer feels his legs lifted into the air. “Did you hear me?”

“Wh-what?” Spencer answers.

“I said when I’m done changing you, you will apologize to Sadie. You will not behave like a brat in front of my friends again, got it?”

Spencer nods, defeated.

“Good boy,” Alexis coos, tickling Spencer’s sides, “How about these?”

“No, please!” Spencer begs, looking at the Pampers diaper Alexis is holding.

“Why not? It has Sesame Street characters, just like your puzzle!”

“No, I won’t!” Spencer squeals, feet kicking wildly.

Alexis laughs, easily corralling Spencer’s feet with one hand and lifting him up. “Well, too bad, kiddo. You’re a Pampers boy now.”

Spencer pouts, hating how easily Alexis can overpower him.

“There, all clean!” Alexis says, taking off Spencer’s shirt, “Hmmm, let’s get you a better shirt.” Alexis picks Spencer up, naked except for his Sesame Street pampers, and heads for the closet.

“Oh, this is perfect!” she says, showing Spencer an adorable Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, “Arms up.”

“What about pants?!” Spencer squirms as Alexis carries him off, “I can’t go out there like this!”

“Yes, you can,” Alexis laughs, “It’s about time you learn your place. This is who you are now. Babies don’t care if their diaper is showing—and neither will you.”

As Alexis returns to the living room, Spencer hears Rebecca giggling wildly. “He’s wearing diapers! He’s a baby? I don’t even wear diapers!”

“Becca, that’s not a nice thing to say to babies. They can’t help it,” Sadie tells Rebecca, “Even if they are absolutely adorable in their little Sesame Street diaper!”

“Do you have anything to say, Spencer?” Alexis asks sternly.

“I…I’m sorry for b-being a brat, Sadie.”

“It’s okay, honey. Those were some big feelings! Even Becca here struggles with them. It must be hard holding in such big feelings in a teeny tiny body!”

Spencer blushes a deep, adorable red. Sadie clearly doesn’t consider him an adult anymore.

“Okay, I think it’s time to put little Spencer down for nap. He’s had a lot of excitement for one day. Haven’t you?” Alexis says, pinching his cheek and putting him down.

Spencer grabs Alexis’ outstretched hand, holding it with as much dignity as he can waddling in a crinkling diaper and rosy red, freshly-spanked cheeks.

“Sleep tight, baby Spencer!” Rebecca calls out as he toddles back to his nursery.

[destinedfordiapers]

Story Time

I thought I should share an embarrassing story for all of you to enjoy. This is, after all, the place where I turn my incontinence struggles into amusement.

Anyway, let's dive in. Its my Honeymoon. I'm flying to Tokyo from Koh Samui in Thailand. We have a layover in Bangkok. All perfectly normal.

We land in Bangkok around 1 pm. At this point, my megamax is mega-maxed out. I'd have normally changed before the flight, but after being abroad for over a week, my diaper stash is becoming a problem. I'm trying to conserve wherever possible.

I need to change. Not a problem, I'll do it when we get to the lounge. What I didn't expect was having to go through security in Bangkok first. And they had the bane of diaper-wearers existence: the fancy scanner.

Friends, I knew I was in trouble. I have a very full diaper. No way it doesn't come up on the scanner. I was right. They pull me to the side. The agent points to where my diaper is and asks what is it.

Now, I try not to be ashamed of my diapers anymore. I always promise myself if someone asks, I'll proudly tell them. I won't be ashamed!

Except it never works like that. I, red-faced and embarrassed my full diaper is now a security concern to the Thai government, rasp and stutter that its a diaper.

This word is not something this Thai agent is familiar with, apparently. I say it again, thinking I may not have been heard. Still nothing. He's looking a bit frustrated and far less friendly. I am getting nervous because I don't want this to become a bigger thing.

He calls over another agent who speaks better English. She talks to him and then asks me what I have in my pockets. I say nothing...it's a diaper.

She then smiles and says, "Oh, Pampers!" And then again tells the other agent "Pampers!" Which, apparently, is what they call diapers in Thailand. Now they're both looking at me astounded that I, a fully grown adult man, is in "Pampers".

Then, to confirm, they say they need to visually confirm. I am wildly opposed to this idea, especially because I am now holding up the line. My wife gives me the "I'm so sorry" face.

I am now tomato red. I do not want to show two Thai airport officials my diaper. I lift up my shirt and let them see the waistband, hoping it satisfies them. The idea of showing them my full, soggy diaper is horrifying.

Fortunately, they are satisfied with seeing the waistband. They send me on my way. I'm glad I don't understand Thai because they laugh after whatever is said.

So, well. I still think about it. It haunts me. I have another story of that, but it was in the US and the guy had to swab my diaper to "test for explosives." I got TSA Precheck the next day.

[destinedfordiapers]

I can’t believe you tried to argue with Santa to get me on the Naughty list!

All because I got you to finally admit what you are! A adorable, silly, submissive little bean!

Soooo am I destined (like my name, get it? You get it) for the Naughty or Nice list?

I just got off the phone with Santa about where you sit on the naughty and nice list, and frankly, I'm not sure I agree with his decision.

In Santa's book, you are already starting on pretty good ground. He has a bias for prolific smut writers, and you are nothing if not prolific.

He is also very happy with how much you have embraced your little side this year. He loves that you have been such an obedient little for your Mommy and Daddy, and you are so loyal to your Mommy.

He is also proud of you for truly embracing your messy diapers this year. I tried to tell him that you avoiding changies was a sign of being naughty, but he says that there isn't something nicer than a little baby loving to waddle around with a stinky bum.

The major mark against you, that I tried to argue should get more weight, is how you bully and tease other littles. Santa agrees that you have gotten a little to big for your soggy britches too often this year. That is definitely Naughty List behavior.

I tried to argue that, like Ducky, you should be a top-tier Naughty Lister. Santa thought about it and disagrees. This year, Destined is on

[destinedfordiapers]

Champagne Supernova

All you can do is cover your face in shame. You never thought it would come to this.

“Yeah, it’s hard for my little guy here,” your fiancée tells the group of enthralled twenty-something’s gathered around you, “But this is what happens when you forget your potty training and go back to diapers.”

You hate how she talks about you like you aren’t even there. Like you’re just a silly little baby who wouldn’t understand anyway.

What you hate more is the Bluey changing mat you’re laying on to change the Little Kings diaper you loaded. All part of the infantile world she threw you in.

“Exactly like a baby. No control at all. Poor guy is less trained than a toddler. He needs his diapies, don’t you, honey?” she continues, rubbing your belly playfully.

Their giggles stab like knives. They see you for what you’ve become. Who you were before the diapers nothing more than a fever dream. A joke.

Nobody will ever think of you as an adult again.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was engaged to this cutie once? Well obviously before the diapers! I think it’s safe to say my lil stinker will never get married. Turns out he didn’t need a wife—he needed a Mommy!”

What she didn’t tell them was this was the park you proposed to her in. When she cried in pure joy as you kneeled down and presented her the ring you saved for months to buy.

Someone pinches your cheek. “He sure is cute!” You open your eyes and see a woman smiling down at you.

Your Mommy rips open your poopy diaper casually. You shiver with the complete disregard for your privacy. And what’s worse is nobody seems to think is unusual.

“Yep, he’s Mommy’s cutie patootie! Poor thing struggled with his transition back to babyhood. But look at him now! Being such a good boy being calm and behaved for Mommy changing his diaper!”

You were anything but calm. But what choice did you have? Throwing a tantrum with a half-changed messy diaper surely wouldn’t help your cause.

This is who you are now.

“Awww, well I’m glad your little guy is happy,” the girl says, “He’s a lucky baby having a Mommy like you!”

Mommy laughs. “Thank you! Look at him blushing! Probably because this position used to mean something very different, huh cutie? Remember? But those days are long gone! Now it means Mommy is getting you out of an icky diapie!”

The groups starts edging away. “Well, I’ll leave you to that poopy diaper. Bye cutie!”

As the group’s laughter dies away, Mommy blows a raspberry on your tummy.

“All clean, baby! Weren’t they nice? Everyone thinks you’re the cutest! I’m one lucky Mommy!”

[destinedfordiapers]

Mommy's Fashion Show

"But, Mommy," Kristen, the 24-year-old fashion school drop out, whined, "That onesie makes me look like a ~baby~! I don't want to wear it!"

Candace, Kristen's slightly older girlfriend-turned-mommy, sighed, onesie in hand, as she stared at the smaller woman, clad only in the fresh diaper Candace had just taped her into.

"Princess, it's not the clothes that make you look like a baby. You look like a baby, because you are one, you silly goose!"

"Nuh uh! That's not true! I only look like a baby because ~you~ put me in baby clothes! It's not fair!" Kristen stomped her foot, a tantrum beginning to boil in her gut.

Candace thought for a moment as her adorable, tiny girlfriend, began to throw a tantrum. She could punish the cute little adult tot for disobedience, but she had a better idea. She could prove to her precocious girlfriend that it wasn't the clothes that make the baby.

Candace walked up to Kristen, so close her large breasts nearly brushed up against the other woman's face, put her finger under Kristen's chin, and tilted the smaller woman's head up so they were making eye contact.

"Little One, Mommy is going to prove to you that it's not the clothes that make you look like such little baby," she said with a soft, matronly tone.

Kristen shivered. She could never say no to Mommy when she got so… Mommy.

The smaller woman nodded her head up and down in acquiescence, "Ok, Mommy."

"Good girl," Candace said, leading the other woman to a large stuffed bear lying on the floor, and positioning Kristen so that she was straddling it. "Now stay here, Mommy is going to put on a little fashion show for you! Won't that be fun? Just like when you went to that silly big girl school?"

Kristen blushed bright red at the reminder of her previous failure to be a successful adult, but did as she was told. As much as she whined, protested, and complained, she loved being Mommy's obedient little plaything. She would do anything the beautiful, large, busty woman asked.

Kristen didn't have to wait long on her stuffed perch before her Mommy re-emerged from her bedroom. Kristen lost her breathe as one of Mommy's beautiful manicured hands ran it's way seductively down the outside of the door before the door opened fully, revealing Candace in all of her glory.

The tall, curvy woman walked out of the room with all of the charisma and swagger of a runway model. The blue gingham baby doll dress she wore, that looked childish and frumpy on Kristen, looked amazing on her.

Given their size differences, the same dress that hid all of the curves on Kristen's body, except those caused by her bulky diaper, emphasized them on Candace. The same skirt that was just short enough to give others a peak of the smaller woman's diapers, was so short on her Mommy that it gave Kristen an incredible view of the sexy lingerie her Mommy wore underneath the dress. The same bodice that hid Kristen's tiny breasts from the world, seemed to be straining against the mass of Candace's full, luscious tits.

Kristen couldn't help but pop her thumb in her mouth and start to lightly grind her hips on the plush bear beneath her. Her diaper covered pussy throbbed just looking at Candace in the 'babyish' outfit.

Candace threw Kristen a knowing wink before she ducked back into their bedroom for an outfit change.

Kristen took advantage of her Mommy's momentary absence to press her hand to the front of her diaper and 'play' a little more aggressively with her teddy bear. She jumped and blushed a little, broken out of her revelry, when the bedroom door flung open revealing Candace yet again.

This time, the large woman was wearing a set of pink, one-piece, fleece pajamas, adorned with images of rainbows and smiling unicorns. The pajamas that always seemed to unnecessarily emphasize Kristen's padded rear-end end had a similar effect on her Mommy. However, instead of showing off a diaper, the pajamas hugged the soft curves of Candance's incredible ass tightly.

Like the dress before it, the pajamas that were almost baggy on Kristen, were too small for her Mommy. Kristen stared at Candace's chest, where the large woman seemed to have been unable to close the zipper that ran from the ankle of the garment to the neck all the way, leaving Candace's impressive cleavage on display.

Kristen couldn't help but drool a little as her Mommy walked the imaginary runway in front of her, thinking about nursing the other woman's beautiful breasts.

As Candace walked back into the bedroom for a last time, she gave her ass a hard spank and blew a kiss to her baby. Kristen whimpered behind her thumb in response, humping the stuffy beneath her even more furiously once the other woman was out of sight.

How was Candace making those clothes, the clothes she despised, the clothes that marked her as an overgrown infant, so fucking hot?

Kristen's thumb fell out of her mouth as her Mommy re-emerged from the bedroom for a last time. Striking a pose, the larger woman looked incredible wearing nothing but the baby blue onesie she had tried to dress Kristen in just moments earlier.

The cotton garment hugged Kristen's Mommy in all of the right ways. The curves of her stomach, her hips, and her ass were all on marvelous display. The tight fabric around the chest, rather than hiding Candace's breasts like it did Kristen's, pushed them up and, somehow, seemed to make the woman's cleavage more impressive.

Most notable of all, from Kristen's perspective, was how the bottom of the onesie looked on her Mommy. The strips of fabric connected by buttons that served to hold the smaller woman's humiliatingly wet and messy diapers against her skin, was so tight on Candace that the fabric acted as a thong. The tight fabric rode up between the tall woman's ass cheeks, revealing the beautiful smooth skin of the larger woman's crotch and buttocks to the world.

As her Mommy spun, Kristen could no longer contain her arousal. Rather than babyish, Candace looked sexy in Kristen's outfits. With reckless abandon, the diapered woman went to work on her stuffed bear, riding it to mind-numbingly incredible completion, humiliation be damned.

When Kristen opened her eyes, her body still shuddering with waves of pleasure from her cringe-inducing 'play time,' she found Mommy sitting next to her, still wearing the incredibly revealing onesie.

Candace put her hand to her baby's cheek and pulled her in for a soft, sensual kiss.

"I don't look so little, now do I, baby girl?"

Kristen blushed and nodded her head back and forth.

Candace smiled and grabbed the small woman's hand, helping her up, before gently guiding her into their bedroom.

"Now, let's get ~you~ dressed for the day," she said softly as Kristen, both defeated and content, followed her meekly.

[destinedfordiapers]

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

“That was perfect, honey! You’re gonna steal the show!” Mommy tells you excitedly after you finish your practice routine.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

Mommy looks you over, beaming the whole time. She adjusts your onesie, though the effort is futile. Your diaper still peeks out adorably.

You blush, wishing you got to look as beautiful as Mommy in her outfit. You saw how Daddy’s jaw dropped when he saw her in it for the first time.

Sure, he assured you that you were even more adorable than Mommy—but you knew it wasn’t the same. She was sexy.

You were adorable.

But it didn’t matter. Not tonight, anyway. It was the big night. You and Mommy had been practicing your routine for weeks. You were so excited to make Daddy proud.

Mommy gives you a big hug. “Are you ready to go, Peanut? We should leave now before we get stuck in traffic.”

You feel butterflies in your tummy but are determined to make Mommy and Daddy proud. “Mhm, yes, Mommy!”

Mommy grabs your diaper bag and a change of clothes for you both. She leads you to the car and straps you into your car seat. Your legs dangle as you run the routine over in your head.

Fifteen minutes later, you arrive at the theater. Mommy lets you out of the car seat and you grab her hand, heading inside.

“Oh, I’m so excited!” Mommy squeals as she opens the door backstage, “It’s finally here!”

You merely nod, feeling another wave of butterflies as you see all the other diaper-clad girls and their Mommies preparing for the performance.

“Hi, Lizzy!” your best friend, Brittany, says as she spots you. Like you, Brittany is wearing a red onesie that does little to hide her diaper. “Wanna practice with me one last time?”

“Sure!” you answer, hoping it distracts you from your growing nerves. Yesterday you found out that it wouldn’t just be Daddy watching you—Grandma and your aunts both decided to come watch their “favorite Little perform.”

Brittany tells her Mommy you’re both going to go practice onstage for a bit. “Okay, honey,” her Mommy answers, “But only for 10 minutes. People are going to start arriving soon!”

Both of you practice your routines, avoiding the men doing last-minute touchups to the stage. After three perfect routines, Brittany deems both of you ready.

“Let me check that diaper, Peanut,” Mommy says when you get backstage, “Don’t want you leaking onstage!” Two fingers are thrust into your diaper. “Only a tiny bit soggy—you’ll be okay.”

The director yells out to everyone backstage, “Okay, everyone! We’re on in 15 minutes! Last chance for diaper changes! Once you’re ready, line up with your Mommy!”

“You’re soaked, baby!” Brittany’s Mommy says, “Come on, let’s get you into a new diaper.” You watch as Brittany is led to one of the changing tables installed for tonight.

Mommy grabs your hand and leads you to your spot. She stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders excitedly. “You’re going to be great tonight! Daddy is sooo excited to see his Peanut tonight!”

“H-he is?” you answer nervously.

“Of course! It’s all he could talk about!”

A wave of excitement washes over you. Daddy is going to be so proud of you!

Brittany finally comes back, taking her spot next to you. “All clean!” she says to nobody in particular.

“Okay!” the director says, “Everybody ready?” A general murmur of agreement echoes from the Littles and their Mommies.

“Good,” the director continues. “Remember, just like we practiced, little ones!”

You hear the crowd talking behind the curtains, feeling yet another twang in your tummy. You look up at Mommy for reassurance.

“It’s okay to be nervous, little on!” Mommy assures you, “Remember, I’ll be right behind you the whole time!”

A man’s voice echoes over the loudspeakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the show you’ve all been waiting for: The 2024 Christmas Spectacular featuring your favorites, The Kringle Krinkles!!”

An explosion of applause echoes throughout the theater.

Each of you steps forward onto the stage, still hidden behind the curtain. Mommy squeezes your shoulders in anticipation.

“Well, I say enough waiting—on with the show!”

With that, the opening bells of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” ring out over the theater as the curtains slowly open.

As the crowd comes into view, you do your best to smile as widely as possible. You look through the crowd for Daddy as you begin your first routine. Finally, you spot him.

Daddy gives you a big thumbs-up as he records the performance with his trusty camcorder. Grandma is next to him, grinning from ear to ear. Both of your aunts wave at you.

Despite your nerves, you’re excited. Seeing Daddy’s proud face made it all worth it.

The first song finishes up—you nailed it! The crowd explodes in celebration.

Next up is your favorite part of the routine: *NSYNC’s Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays.

This is it. Your time to shine. Your mind focuses purely on what’s coming up—your small solo dance at the end of the song. You have to do good for Daddy!

A few seconds into the song, you feel your tummy tighten. Your eyes go wide. Not now! But you keep dancing, determined to hold it. A few toots escape, but thankfully drowned out by the music.

You keep smiling despite your terror. It happens as you twirl around. Your knees bend as you squat down and grunt. You feel your diaper drooping as it fills with your mess.

An echo of “awwws” erupt as the crowd notices the adorable Kringle Krinkle loading her diaper.

After what feels like an eternity, you finish. You look up at Mommy, tears in your eyes.

“You’re okay, honey! Keep dancing!”

Teary-eyed and with a droopy diaper, you stomp your foot. You’re on the verge of a meltdown. But right before you run offstage, you see Daddy. Through the music you can hear him yelling.

“Keep going, Peanut! I believe in you!”

Despite everything, you stay onstage and look at the rest of the dancers. You see where they are in the routine and start dancing again, tears still falling off your cheeks.

You get back in sync just before your solo. This is it.

You get lost in the moment. Not even your drooping diaper can stop you! You spin around, twirling like a ballerina. It’s the best routine you’ve ever done!

By the time you finish and the song ends, the entire theater is on their feet, cheering on the adorable diaper girl.

“Great job, Peanut!” Mommy says, giving you a brief hug.

The next two songs fly by. The crowd erupts in celebration as the program ends. You did it!

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for your Kringle Krinkles!” The crowd gives you and your friends a standing ovation as you bow. You’re so excited you don’t even think about your diaper.

As the curtain closes, Mommy wraps you in a bear hug. “I’m so, so proud of you, Peanut! You were so good!”

“We did it, Lizzy!” Brittany screams, “We’re just like the Rockettes!”

“Well, almost,” Mommy interrupts, “I don’t think the Rockettes need their poopy diaper changed after they get offstage!”

“Mommyyyyy,” you whine.

“Sorry, little one. But let’s change you before Daddy gets back here.”

“Fine,” you moan, following Mommy to the changing table.

Mommy lifts you on the changing table and gets to work. As she’s ripping off your tapes, you’re swarmed by other littles congratulating you.

“Thank you!” you say, blushing. You’re not used to this much attention during poopy diaper changes.

Mommy starts wiping your tush when you see Grandma and your two aunts heading straight for you.

“Hi, Lizzy!” your grandma exclaims, pinching your cheek, “You were amazing!”

Your aunts—both your age—agree.

Mommy lifts your legs to finish wiping your tush. “Where’s Daddy?” you ask.

“Right here, Pumpkin!” Daddy answers with an armful of two dozen roses, “I’m so proud of you! I had to bring my little ballerina some roses!”

Your eyes light up seeing Daddy. “F-for me, Daddy?”

“Who else, silly! Here!”

You take the roses from Daddy, feet still in the air as Mommy wipes you.

“Thank you, Daddy! I love them!”

“You’re very welcome!”

Mommy slides a new diaper under you. She rubs in some rash cream and baby powder as Daddy and Grandma break down your solo.

“There, all done!” Mommy says.

Daddy reaches down and picks you off the changing table, resting you on your hip. “I get to hold the star of the show!” Daddy says excitedly.

“She sure is!” Grandma agrees, booping your nose.

“Are you hungry, little one?” Daddy asks, “Grandma made her special honey ham you love so much! And we have everything to make Christmas cookies and watch Elf tonight! How does that sound?”

“Great, Daddy!” you shout excitedly.

“I knew it, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you home!”

You waddle between Mommy and Daddy to the car, holding both their hands. Cozy, safe, and loved. Right where you belong.

[destinedfordiapers]

Destined's Top 5: Babysitter Caps

Here's another top 5. It's about babysitters this time. I enjoy making these lists so you're stuck with them until I refill my ADHD meds and can actually focus on writing.

I have an adorable Christmas caption idea that I want to write but have absolutely no focus to write it. But it may be the cutest idea I've ever had. Not to sensationalize.

Anyway, here is the list:

Honorable Mention: The Embarrassing One

It's much easier to make lists when I have titles for captions. But this one doesn't have one. It's still a fun caption though.

5. The Harry Potter One

Just an adorably embarrassing way to watch a Harry Potter movie marathon.

4. Hungry Eyes

I giggled when I thought of the song title for this caption. I think it's fitting.

3. Should've Said No

It's embarrassing enough to have a babysitter. Even worse when it's your ex that you cheated on. This isn't a groundbreaking, novel idea. But it's entertaining. So there you go. Bronze in Babysitter category.

2. Here Comes The Sun

I love this caption. I think it's adorable. Easy Silver.

1. The Wheels on the Bus

Definitely my best babysitter caption. Gold.

[destinedfordiapers]

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

Your tummy panged with jealousy when she turned around and smiled at you.

Well, at least you hoped it was jealousy.

For anyone else, this would be a scene from one of those corny Hallmark Christmas movies. It had everything: ice skating, Christmas music, and the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” she asked, reaching out her hand.

You weren’t sure what concerned you more. The fact you hadn’t gone ice skating since you were a kid—or the ridiculous poofy snow suit she insisted you wear.

“Oh, don’t be scared,” she said, pulling you forward, “Besides, you have nothing to worry about! Your diaper will cushion your tush if you fall!”

“Hey!” you squeal, looking to see if anyone heard.

“Relax, kiddo. Nobody is paying attention. Look around. Everyone is enjoying themselves. So, stop moping, and let’s go!”

She pulls you onto the ice. Your feet wobble as you try to steady yourself.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” she coos. Unlike you, she’s a natural on the ice. She giggles as she supports you.

A steady stream of skaters passes you as you inch forward, looking every bit like you’re about to fall.

“I-I don’t know when I last went ice skating,” you confess.

“Really?” she says, genuinely nonplussed, “Where did you take girls on dates during Christmas, then? Nothing is more romantic than this!”

“I-I,” you stutter.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I should’ve known better. You poor thing,” she says, hugging your arm.

“It-it’s okay,” you mumble.

“No, it’s not, honey. Gosh, you must think I’m a terrible babysitter.”

You shiver—you hate that word. Babysitter.

 “You’re not! Promise!” you assure her. You may hate having a babysitter, but you would do anything to keep her smiling.

“You’re sweet,” she purrs, “But right now, I am. I didn’t mean to tease you, I promise.”

“It’s okay, really!”

“Thank you, honey,” she says, guiding you to the exit.

“Are we done already?” you ask.

“Not yet! I just need to check that diaper of yours before I officially become the worst babysitter ever.”

“It’s fine, really!” you say desperately to avoid her checking your diaper.

She reaches down and grabs your diaper.

Your face burns in embarrassment at how casually she did it.

“Hmm, it’s hard to tell with your poofy suit. Let’s get you into the bathroom so I can check. Sit down so I can help you out of your skates.”

Two minutes later, you follow her to the bathroom, your diaper bag hanging off her shoulder.

“Lucky us! They have a family bathroom!” she says, “It’s locked. Looks like you’re not the only one in diapers, huh?”

A few minutes later, a clearly overwhelmed mother walks out, herding two very energetic little ones. She gives your babysitter a knowing look.

“Come on,” she says, pushing you inside, “Let’s take a look at that diaper.”

She lowers your zipper as far as it goes. Her hand reaches down into your snowsuit, squeezing your diaper.

“Glad I checked, you’re soaked! Time for a new diaper!”

You have never felt more helpless than right now. She guides your hands out of the suit before taking off your shoes.

“Can you step out of this for me? Good boy.” She tosses the suit aside.

You look at the stunningly beautiful woman in front of you as she grabs supplies from your diaper bag, pretending you’re not standing in a t-shirt and soggy diaper.

“Lay down on the mat,” she coos.

She kneels in front of you, focusing on the bulging diaper she’s about to change, giving you a perfect view of her chest.

You didn’t mean to say it, but you blurted it out before you could stop it. You couldn’t help yourself seeing her like that.

“Let’s make this a real date! Will you go out with me?”

Neither of you said anything for a few seconds. Both of you equally stunned by what you said.

She composed herself, smiling. “Awww, you're so sweet! I’m flattered! I really am! But…”

“There doesn’t have to be a but!” you interrupt.

“Sweetie,” she sighs, patting your diaper, “I’m changing your diaper. This would never work. You’re handsome, but I don’t date people I babysit.”

The heavy silence hanging over the room is shattered by the ripping of your diaper.

“I’ll tell you what, kiddo,” she says excitedly, “I have an idea!”

“R-really?” you ask, grasping at any hope.

“Well, I’m babysitting you all weekend. So, how about tomorrow we head out to the mall and find Santa! How does that sound?”

Your heart sinks. “Wh-why would I want to see Santa?”

“Think about it! Santa always helps the boys and girls who believe in him! I’ll sit you on Santa’s lap and you can ask him for a training potty! Maybe by this time next year, you'll be potty trained!"

You cover your face in abject shame as she continues the diaper change.

“Are you pouting? I hope not!” she asks sternly before smiling again, “Not before you meet Santa!”

She tickles your tummy as she sings.

“You better watch out! You better not cry! You better not pout. I’m telling you why…”

[destinedfordiapers]

Destined's Top 5: MDLG

I don't write MDLG captions often. But I have written just enough requests to put out a top 5. Most of them have been written for littles who requested them, and they were so creative the captions all turned out great, so I thought it deserved its own list.

Click on the titles to read them. Anyway, here they are:

5. Picture to Burn

I don't know if this even counts as MDLG. But it can't be a Top 5 list without five captions, so I'm counting it. Plus it's one of my favorites so, here it is.

4. Love Story (Ducky's Version)

It's fun to make Ducky blushy.

3. Bunny Hops

When I was discussing ideas with Bunny for this caption, she introduced me to the concept of normalization. I'd never heard of that before, but I absolutely love it now.

2. Waterloo

Like I said, it's fun to make Ducky blushy. And she was sooo blushy when she confessed all the things she wanted in the caption. And when I added some of my own.

1. This Untitled Caption

One of my favorites. Can't beat a Pottypants Princess.