devillilly-san

[devillilly-san]

So many of you will relate to this

[devillilly-san]

i love good boys who spread their legs when masturbating; yes, baby boy, spread your legs and touch yourself for me. go slowly at first, let me see precum leak out of your pretty cock as you get more and more worked up. let me hear your sweet moans when you pick up the pace. don’t hold back, be as loud and filthy as you can. use your own spit as lube, like the dirty slut that you are for me. and when you cum, don’t you dare to stop! i don’t care if you are too sensitive, i don’t care that you physically can’t get hard again or cum again, keep touching yourself until i allow you to stop. you know you’re not in charge.

[devillilly-san]

[devillilly-san]

Naww a lil peeks a boo~ so precious

🧷

fliss says hi!

[devillilly-san]

Just Breathe

The tea was still warm when I set it down.

Not quite the usual blend she made, some essential oils crap she constantly raved about.

“This one’s for calming,” she said. “Just try it. A few sips.”

I don't even like tea. I told her that. Put up a bit of a fuss. But she was insistent. Smiled that smile. Brushed my arm. And I gave in. Like I always did. I was too tired to care. Now I wish I had.

Because now I can’t move.

My legs are stone. My arms barely twitch. My head lolls like it’s too heavy for my neck. And she’s right there, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, hands trembling as she unfolds a thick, white diaper in her lap.

I know what it is. I just… I don’t understand.

Not yet.

She doesn’t look at me. Not right away. Just keeps smoothing it out, like she’s working through something in her head. The crinkling is deafening in the quiet room. Like every fold is another nail in something I didn’t realize was being built.

Then I see it: a little glass vial. Clear. Innocent-looking. She uncaps it with a shake in her fingers, tips it gently over the padding, lets a few drops sink into the lining.

“Wait,” I croak, barely above a whisper. “What… what is that?”

She finally looks up. And God help me, she looks beautiful. Her eyes are red. Glossy. Her lips are trembling.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” she says, sniffling. “I really didn’t.”

She lifts the diaper, fully unfurled. Brings it closer.

My chest tightens.

“You drugged me,” I manage.

She nods. Just barely.

“You would have put up too much of a fuss otherwise.”

The diaper crinkles as she folds it inward. Closer.

“You’re going to wake up in diapers,” she continues, adjusting the folds again. Crinkle. “Every day. Every night. Until you forget what it felt like to wear anything else.”

"What the fffuck are you talkinggg about?" I try to say, but it comes out slurred. I try to push back, to lift my arms, to do something. But all I can do is stare as she positions herself in front of me, gripping diaper like she's a nurse with a gas mask about to put me under.

I flinch. Try to turn my head. But her hand’s already there, fingers firm against my cheek, guiding me back. Not rough. Not violent. Just certain.

The padding covers everything. My nose. My mouth. The soft bulk of it sealing me in. I try to shake free, but my neck barely responds. I try to pull back, to push her away, but my body doesn’t move.

And she’s holding it now, one hand behind my head, pressing me forward, the other cupping it to my face like she’s chloroforming me. Her thumbs press at the back of my neck. Her grip tightens just enough to make the crinkle echo in my ears. I gasp. Instinct, nothing more.

Too late.

The scent floods in: floral and powdery and chemical all at once. A deep, suffocating sweetness that spreads like heat through my skull.

She doesn’t let go. Just holds it there until I’ve taken several breaths. Until she feels me sag. Only then does she ease the diaper back. Slowly. Carefully. Like peeling a mask from my skin.

She exhales softly. Almost shaking.

“That’s one.”

I inhale. Fresh air this time, but my head is spinning. My brain hums.

The scent wraps around me like a net—powdery, sweet, but laced with something else. Something sharp. Not bad, just… thick. It fills the space behind my eyes. My brain hums. My head dips. My fingers twitch.

“You’ll be changed on schedule,” she whispers. “You’ll be spoon-fed. Bathed. Monitored.”

I blink slowly. Her voice is syrup in my ears.

“Wuz… whuz is goingg on?” My voice cracks. Slurs. “What are you… doing to me?”

She’s already shaking her head. Her eyes glisten, like she's pained to say it. “What has to be done.”

The diaper crinkles again as she turns it in her hands. Sharp. Clean. Certain.

I don’t even understand what I’ve done wrong. But something’s happening. Something final. And it’s already too late.

“You won’t ask for the bathroom,” she continues, her voice low and steady. “You’ll use your diapers. Just like a good little baby.”

And then, she brings it back.

Cupped firmly in her hand. Centered. Aligned. The thick, padded front pressing to my mouth and nose once more. The crinkle is deafening.

“Again,” she whispers.

I try to pull away. I can’t. Her grip tightens on the sides, holding me in place.

I breathe.

Not because I want to. Because I have to.

“Deep breath.”

The chemical hits faster this time. The warmth spreads down my neck. My mouth hangs open. My thighs relax.

I’m losing ground.

She watches me. Like she wants to stop. Like she’s begging me to give her a reason to.

“I thought you were one of the good ones,” she whispers, voice shaky, nose sniffling, “And maybe you were once, but you lost your way. And no matter how much I tried to get you back to the man I married, you always refused. Still, I thought I could change you."

Her eyes are misty, a solitary tear trails down her cheek, her voice cracks.

“But I was lying to myself.”

She presses the diaper in again.

“Breathe.”

I do.

A soft whimper escapes me as it floods in. My cheeks burn. "Pleashh, I'll be betturr" My muffled voice says through the chemical-laced padding.

She pulls it away, holding it gently now. Reverently. The smell lingers even without it pressed to my face.

“I tried everything,” she says, barely audible. “I begged you to grow up. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.”

She leans in, her lips just inches from mine.

“So now you’ll be something else.”

She smiles. Not cruelly. Almost lovingly. Then...she pauses.

I realize I’ve started to lean forward, as much as my sluggish body will allow. Just slightly. Toward the diaper in her hands. The smell is faint, still lingering. Powdery. Warm.

My breath hitches. I want to say no. To tell her to stop all of this. But I can’t.

Because it’s happening again.

The scent. God, the scent. It’s starting to feel good.

It makes my head light. My chest warm. My thoughts… slow.

And she sees it.

“You’re already getting used to it, aren’t you?” she whispers, her voice soft with heartbreak. "You're starting to crave it."

Not mocking. Not triumphant. Just sad. Like she’s watching the last part of me fade, and trying to tell herself it’s for the best.

“Don’t worry,” she says softly. “It’s not your fault. The compound does that. Rewires things. You’ll start to get addicted to the smell. The feel.”

The diaper presses against my face. I don’t pull away.

“You’ll beg for it,” she says distantly. “You’ll hold out your arms and whimper when you’re wet. You'll giggle when you're messy. You won’t even know why.”

She cups the back of my head. Brings it in.

“Again.”

I huff. This time I moan. A low, pitiful sound from deep in my chest. My mouth stays open. My nose presses into the padding. I nuzzle it, ashamed, needy.

She doesn’t speak. Just strokes my hair as I tremble.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispers.

“You needed someone to teach you. I just didn't have the right...tools."

I try to speak. Nothing comes out. Just a soft gurgle. My jaw moves. My eyes flutter.

“Good boy…” she coos.

She tilts the diaper again, releasing more of that scent. I whimper and press toward it.

“Shhh,” she murmurs. “It’s okay.”

She holds it to my face. This time, I suck in like I want it. I do want it.

I need it. Like an addict eager for his next fix.

It smells like safety. Like being held. Like the guilt is gone. The expectations. The failure. Just softness. Warmth.

I babble into the padding. A broken, burbling sound.

“That’s it,” she whispers. “Just let it happen.”

She strokes my cheek with the edge of the diaper, her voice a whisper in the growing fog.

“When you wake up,” she murmurs, “you won’t remember what it was like to be in control. This is the last time you’ll ever feel like a man. From now on, everything is decided for you. You won’t need grown-up thoughts anymore. You’ll be who you were always meant to be.”

Then, she presses it in again. Firm. Centered. Final.

“Just one more,” she whispers.

I breathe. I whimper. The scent rushes in, deeper than before. It floods my skull. Spreads behind my eyes. Everything softens. Thoughts slip loose. Memories come unstitched. Language curls inward and fades.

What was I saying? What was I so afraid of?

I don’t remember anymore. I don’t care.

She leans in close, and I feel her breath at my ear. Her voice cracks. Wet. She’s crying now. Full tears. Silent. Steady. Dripping down her cheeks as she holds the diaper to my face.

“You’re safe now,” she whispers, choking on it. “You don’t have to think anymore. Just be little.”

I try to respond, but nothing comes. Just a little sound. Muffled. Gurgling. My lips are slack. My eyes barely open.

Her fingers stroke my hair.

“That’s it,” she breathes. “Let it all go, sweetheart. Let the grown-up part go. When you wake up you'll be my little baby. Forever.”

The world fades to white.

Her silhouette above me. Blurry. Trembling. Weeping. The diaper pressed to my mouth.

The last thing I hear is the crinkling of the diaper. The sound I’ll become very used to over the coming years. The sound I’ll wake up in. The sound I’ll fall asleep to. The sound that will follow me… until there’s nothing left to remember but softness.

And then...nothing. Just warmth. Just scent. Just silence. As it all fades to black...

[devillilly-san]

On paper, the job was easy. A bit of corporate sabotage; common job in a corporate-controlled environment. You didn't think twice about accepting it anyway, you needed credits to buy some new implants and augmentations, as well as pay for your ratty apartment. Besides, the job paid well - a bit too well, but nothing you would blink an eye at: 2 years of your average corporate drone's salary for a simple hacking job, a cakewalk for your own stolen cyberware. So then why was it that the door was unlocked for you when you got there? Why was it that the guard patrols were scheduled in such a way that you'd never collide with them? Why was it all so... easy? As you made your way to your target and began to decrypt the data, you realized all too late what you had fallen into, as specialized code disables your augmentations leaving you writhing on the floor in agonizing pain, your consciousness fading as you attempted to stabilize yourself, watching as the door opened to reveal a tall, intimidating lady in a suit worth more than your entire existence. Her contemptuous gaze falling upon your twisted body with an animalistic grin, all while retaining her levity; the last thing you could hear as her fixers stormed the room was, "Truly, these mercenaries grow increasingly idiotic. Take her to my personal room, and make sure she's untouched; I would like to play with her before making my decision." The next thing you knew, you were in a room you could only describe as "luxurious" beyond any sense of the world. Something only a CEO could afford, filled with everything you could think of, from the most illicit to the most mundane. Of course, you were tied up - or perhaps it's safer to say that your base functions had been... deactivated by the code that had run through you earlier. As your lucidity returned, you recognized who was standing in front of you. The CEO of the most influential corporation worldwide: Idunn Voss, a lady who could have bought your entire existence on a whim, given a vast majority if not all of your stolen implants originated from her corporation. A lady with everything but recreation. "Curious. It seems like it took you a while to recognize who I was. Tell me, do you... insects not know the meaning of respect?" her cruel voice falling upon you with the force of a sledgehammer. You attempt to respond, but find your jaw clamped shut.

"No matter. Clearly, with an intellect as... sub-par as yours, I shouldn't have expected you to be capable of speech. So, I'll put it into words you can understand. I set up a falsified job. A raid on my own shell company, in search of prey. Someone no one would miss. Someone who would fall for it, and have it be their own fault. After all, who would honestly believe that anyone would pay anyone that much for such a simple job?" Her repeated insults hit you, your body unmoving not because you hold it still, rather, because you lack the permission to move it from her. She gently caresses your cheeks, her hands as soft as cashmere, yet as cold as steel. "I do believe I've captured such an interesting prize, however. I must admit, I've exceeded my expectations. Of course, your appearance is... much too uncouth for me, girl. We'll have this fixed." Noticing the unease and confusion on your nearly paralyzed face, she smirks. "Ah, I apologize, I got ahead of myself. You must want to know why you're here." she circles around your body like a shark moving into for the kill, stripping you nude. "It's quite simple. I merely wish to... experiment, for lack of a better word, and you just happened to sign up for the test. I've wanted something to take care of for ages, you see. However, I was never satisfied with the exotic pets I could easily have. No, I wanted something more... visceral." As she sat your now nude body down on a chair, she continued. "I wished to rebuild someone from the very beginning. Take what they are and... restructure it. That's where you and I come in." "My engineers have developed a fabulous new technology - I suppose you perhaps saw the name of the project when you were hacking it? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, after all, your ilk barely cares about anything other than credits." She clicks a button, and immediately the room dims; a hologram lighting up with the details of the project carefully animated. "This, my dear lowlife, is Project: Phoenix. You see, many of us at the top find ourselves quite lonely, and this is in effect, a solution to that issue. After all, we cannot exactly devote our full attention to a single being, now can we? Let alone be responsible for their growth. No - I wanted something more direct. To put it into words you may understand - it's an augmentation to the womb, granting perfect compression and genetic alteration subroutines while still maintaining the carrier's health and appearance, to fit people like you inside us." You watch on in arousal and horror as the animated hologram demonstrates the process of insertion - you would be stripped nude, revoked of all cyberware, and inserted into her womb, only to come out when she deemed so, your life perfectly maintained, and shaped to her desire. "You and I will be the first to use it." She says, as she removes her pants, revealing the augmentation, your eyes widening in panic, as she calls for your transport to her medical suite, before whispering the last words you would hear before everything would change for you into your ear, "and I can't wait to see what comes of you once I'm satisfied." as you fell into a slumber that you would not wake from until she deemed it so.

[devillilly-san]

I would love to have the love of my life bound to a chair like this, completely helpless and unable to resist my depraved actions.

He wouldn't be able to see me, and his ears would be covered by the mask too as seen above. The only way he could predict where I am in the room--or if I'm still there at all and haven't left him in this vulnerable position as a sick joke--is by listening closely for the sounds of footsteps against the floor.

I'd scare him by touching his body when he thinks I'm somewhere else entirely. I'd whisper in his ear when he thinks I've went to the kitchen to get him his treat. I'd keep him guessing and never let him truly trust his senses... 💗

[devillilly-san]

Aftercare means both participants feel safe. Not just one

[devillilly-san]

“No diapie today, Mommy. I wanna look like a big kid.”

Oh, sweetheart.

They say it with those big eyes, tugging their jeans up over that pull-up like it’s some kind of secret shield. Like the thin little crinkle between their legs is invisible if they just pretend hard enough.

I should say no. But I don’t. I let them try.

But I know the signs.

The little squirm in their step. The way they start shifting from foot to foot. The quiet tension in their voice when they tug my sleeve and whisper, “Mommy, I hafta potty.”

So I take their hand. I always do.

We walk over to the bathrooms together, but when we get there, the door is taped off.

CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

They freeze, staring like the sign might disappear if they pout hard enough.

“Can I use the employee one?” they ask, panic creeping in behind their voice.

A passing employee barely glances at us. “Sorry, bathrooms are closed. Staff only,” she says, already walking away like it’s no big deal.

Their fingers tighten around mine. Their breath catches.

“We’ll be quick,” I say softly. “You can hold it, can’t you?”

They nod. Brave. Determined. But their body is already giving me a different answer.

We move through a few more aisles. I try to keep things light. “Do you want the pink applesauce or the cinnamon?” I ask, but they’re barely listening. Their little hips rock with every step. Their jaw’s tight. They’re holding on — but just barely.

Then it happens.

They squat down to grab something off the bottom shelf. Just for a second.

And their body gives in.

There’s a tiny grunt. A sudden stillness. I see the bulge swell at the seat of their jeans, rounding out fast, unmistakably. Their whole face goes slack with shock. They don’t even try to stop it.

And then… the flood.

A hiss of pee, fast and hot, soaking straight through. Their pull-up doesn’t stand a chance. It overflows in seconds. I watch the denim darken all the way down to their ankles. A warm puddle starts to spread beneath them on the floor.

And right then—perfect timing—our neighbors walk past.

“Oh! Hi there!”

They stroll by with a cart full of produce, all smiles — until one of them, the woman, glances down.

Her eyes land right on the puddle.

Just for a second.

Then she looks up at me and gives the tiniest nod. A soft, understanding smile. Not judgmental — not amused — just… knowing.

Like she’s seen this before. Maybe even been there.

I meet her gaze, calm as ever.

“Cutting our trip short,” I say smoothly, my hand resting on their shoulder. “Some little tummies just don’t wait.”

She chuckles gently. “Don’t they ever,” she says, before nudging her husband along.

They move on without another word.

And I’m left with my poor, soggy little one — eyes wide, cheeks burning, frozen in place with a puddle at their feet.

I don’t scold. I don’t sigh. I just kneel down, take off my sweater, and wrap it around their waist.

“Let’s get you home, baby,” I whisper, squeezing their hand.

Their bottom squishes with every step as we head for the side exit. The cart gets left behind. No need to explain. I’ve got one priority — and it’s the soggy, trembling mess clutching my fingers.

In the car, they’re quiet. Teary. Sagging into the seat like all their energy’s melted out of them.

I buckle them in, brush the hair from their face, and kiss their warm cheek.

“No more pullys for a while,” I tell them softly. “You’re not ready, sweetheart.”

As soon as we get home and cleaned up, it’s diapers. Thick ones. Snapped into a soft onesie where everyone can see they belong in it. Maybe even the stroller, depending on their attitude.

[devillilly-san]

Pretty

You really tried, didn't you~?

Brushed your hair just right. Picked out something cute to wear.. Practiced the words you wanted to say.

You looked in the mirror and whispered, "I want Miss Snare to notice me. I want to be perfect."

Sweet little thing. You were never going to be perfect. You were going to be mine.

That cute blush creeping down your neck? That shaky little breath when I do look your way? That's the real you.

Not put together. Not composed. Just yearning.

You don't need to be pretty for me dear. You just need to crumble for my words. Just need to drop when I tell you to.

So go on. Lose your balance. Drop your words. Get all misty-eyed and helpless just because I see you.

That's when you are prettiest anyways~

[devillilly-san]

Never too much 🎀

Little one had been quiet for the past few days and everytime mama asked if everything was ok she got a "yes, just tired" but mama knew that wasn't the case.

She also knew that sometimes it was hard for her little one to understand that mama was there to stay and take care of her. Today they were both home, babygirl had been up before mama and made herself some toast. Mama was up half an hour later "good morning sweetheart, what are you doing up so early?" Little one shrugged, she wanted nothing more but to be held by her mama but she was a big girl and big girls don't need that

"I just woke up i guess" mama nodded before kissing her baby's forehead. Little one melted as mama gave her a warm hug, she really needed that "would you like me to make you some breakfast sweetheart?" Little one pulled away from the hug "no thank you, I made my own" mama knew not to take that to heart, she knew little one was struggling "should we put that to the side and have a little chat?" Mama pushes the girl's toast to the side and takes her baby's hand guiding her to the lounge

"i don't want to" little one said in a whisper. Mama sat down and patted the spot next to her "can you sit down for me please, sweetheart?" Little one sat down and chewed on her fingers "do you want hold mama's hand?" Mama knew sometimes that helped, babygirl nodded and played with the ring on her mama's finger "what's going on baby?" Little one shrugged again "can you use your words please, darling" 

babygirl took a deep breath "just alot mama" mama smiled softly as she tucked little one's hair behind her ear "work has been very stressful and I can't seem to relax or feel better unless you hold me, but you do so much for me already and I don't wanna keep asking" little one let it all out in one breath. Mama gently lifted her baby onto her lap "i will hold you for as long as you need me to sweetheart, you know that baby" she knew mama meant it but sometimes her brain played silly games and made things tricky

"i have to be a big girl, i dont wanna be too much" babygirl couldn't help but snuggle into her mama "can you look at mama please?" Little one slowly lifted her head and looked into her mama's eyes "you know how mama is always honest with you?" Babygirl nodded "as mama ever told you that you are too much?" Little one didn't have to think because mama never told her that before "no mama" mama held babygirl's face in her hands softly kissed her forehead

"that's because you aren't too much, mama is here to take care of you, mama will take care of you whether you are little or big, sweetheart" little one took everything in "even... even when im grumpy and my brain is being mean?" Mama gives little one a warm smile "yes babygirl, even then" babygirl snuggles back into her mama's chest "thank you mama" mama rubs her back "can you promise mama something?" Little one looks up "what mama?" Mama strokes her baby's nose "next time you will tell mama how you are feeling, can you promise me that?"

Little one nods "im sorry, mama i promise" mama hold little one close "mama doesn't want you to apologise for how you are feeling darling, you haven't done anything wrong baby, mama just wants you to know that no matter what or how you are feeling, you are never too much and you can come to mama and we will work on it together, does that make sense baby?" Babygirl nods "not too much mama" mama kisses her baby's head "that's right my little love you are never too much" 🎀

[devillilly-san]

The Sissy Baby Alphabet (NSFW 18+)

***DISCLAIMER*** The people depicted in the following image / caption are consenting adults over the age of 18. If you are not 18 or older, click away now! 

Image Credit: This is NOT my image. All credit goes to CrinkleKen. 

Images will be removed on request.

Are you having trouble making a messy for me, little one? What’s the matter? I said you could use the potty for number 2. I never said anything about taking your didee off. Ohh, don’t be so pouty. You’re staying right there until you use your diaper like a good boy. 

Mommy will teach you the ABC’s to pass the time, ok? 

A is for alphabet, which little babies don’t know. *giggle*

B is for boobies! The things you get to suck. 

C is for clitty. That’s what we call the thing between your legs. 

D is for diapers. That’s what big baby’s wear. 

E  is for enema. Something you’ll get if you don’t hurry up.

F is for fussy. Like you when Mommy takes you out for walks. 

G is for games. Like the ones Mommy plays with your bottom. 

H is for humpies. Ohh. I saw a little pokey in your diaper. I bet you like that word, huh?

I stands for innocent. Forever the way you’ll be. 

J is for jealous. How you feel when Mommy has a date.

K stands for KY, remember? The jelly Mommy puts between your cheeks. 

L is for little. You’re Mommy’s little sunshine.  

M is for milking. Mommy’s favorite time of the month.

N is for nummies! Tasty mushy foods!

O is for orgasm. Only Mommy’s and big boys get those. 

P is for poopies! Are you still not done yet?

Q is for quiet. Like all good sissy babies should be. 

R stands for ruffles. Like the ones on all your pretty dresses!

S is for squishy. That’s how Mommy likes your diapers. 

T is for tiny. I don’t think I need to explain what part of a sissy THAT relates to. *laugh*

U stands for uh-oh! When you have a sticky accident. 

V is for vagina. Something that’s not for sissy boys. 

W is for wet. Like Mommy when she teases you. 

X is for xylophone. Like the plastic one you play with. 

Y is for yellow. The same color as your diapies. 

Z is for a zillion! Mommy loves you that much. 

Now did you make a present for me yet? Oh, thats too bad. Ok, bubble but. Let’s get you out of that squishy diaper. Mommy will give you a nice soapy enema before nap time. Maybe next time you’ll be able to use the princess potty like a good boy. 

[devillilly-san]

Scotty Doesn’t Know

The last few weeks had been pure, unexpected bliss.

A few months ago, you finally managed to admit your ABDL kinks to your wife.

It did not go well.

“So let me get this straight. You, ostensibly an adult man, want to not only wear diapers, but have me treat you like a baby? And you’re serious?”

Needless to say, you did not bring it up again.

After a few awkward weeks, however, it seemed to be forgotten, and your relationship seemed to get back to normal. Both of you pretended that the conversation never happened.

Which is why you were so surprised the night you got home from work and found her waiting along with cases of diapers, onesies, and more accessories than you could have ever imagined.

“Awwww, are you surprised to see all this, baby? Good! At first I thought it was just so…pathetic. But I’ve done a lot of research and think this is perfect for us!”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

It didn’t take long to see just how thorough her research must have been. She hadn’t just bought every ABDL item she could find—she had fully immersed herself in the kink.

“I need you to understand one thing, baby. If this is what you want, then you will fully commit. This won’t be something that happens when it suits you. It’s all or nothing.”

She continued, “You will be diapered 24/7. No exceptions. At home you will have no more rights than a baby. You can wear big boy clothes in public over your diaper, but I will check and change your diaper when I see fit. Got it?”

How could you say no?

She was a natural. A perfect mix of loving Mommy and firm domme. Caring and attentive, yet unrelenting and uncompromising. She was unambiguously in control.

And it was better than any fantasy you ever imagined.

Which brings us to today.

Mommy just fed you your lunch: a large bowl of oatmeal with sliced strawberries and bananas, followed by two jars of pureed prunes.

As usual, you were doing your post-lunch tummy time on your oversized Winnie the Pooh blanket in nothing but your Rugrats t-shirt and comically soggy Little Kings diaper.

Of course, Mommy knew you were due for a change. She wasn’t blind. But she knew her little one was extremely regular—especially after eating those prunes.

She’d change you once you made your afternoon poopoo.

The first wave of cramps hit seconds before the doorbell rang.

You looked up in panic; you’d be immediately obvious to anyone at the door.

Yet Mommy completely ignored your terrified squeals from behind your paci, heading straight for the door.

You watched in horror as the door opened. It seemed to happen in slow motion, slowly and inevitably.

“Hey girls! Come on in!”

Nothing could have prepared you for this.

Standing in the doorway were Mommy’s two best friends, Lauren and Mary, smiling from ear to ear.

Looking right at you.

Utterly exposed.

You instinctively try to cover your diaper in an admittedly adorable, yet wholly futile attempt to preserve your dignity.

As if that was even possible.

Your bulging, yellow diaper was merely one aspect of the humiliating, infantile menagerie before them.

“Oh! My! Gosh! Fiona! He’s adorable!” Lauren squealed in delight, walking straight toward you, “He’s even cuter than you described! And that diapie? Ahhh, I can’t!”

They knew about this?

Mary followed right behind Lauren. “Like…he even actually looks like a baby! Just…bigger.”

The three women surround you, looking down at the red-faced baby too stunned to speak.

You can’t believe Mommy told them!

“Told you you’d love him!” Mommy says with pride, “He just belongs in babyhood!”

Mary laughs. “I know Lauren thinks so. Remember that fight before your wedding?��

“Can you believe I actually argued this sweet little boy was a man?” Mommy says quickly, noticing Lauren’s hesitation, “But you were right all along!”

“Well, I still shouldn’t have said all those things at the Bach party. It was way out of line.”

Mommy waves a hand dismissively. “You were just being a good friend. I wasn’t ready to hear it, yet. Good friends tell hard truths.”

Your eyes go wide in fear as a strong wave of cramps hits you. A tiny whimper escapes your mouth.

You look at the women, praying they’re too distracted to have heard you.

“What’s wrong little guy?” Mary asks softly, kneeling down, “What are you whimpering about, hmm?”

Mommy flashes a knowing, devious grin.

“Ut oh! Does Mommy’s little baby have an icky tummy? Is someone gonna make poopoo in his diapie for us?”

“Ahhh! He even makes the same poopy face as actual babies!” Lauren squeals, tickling your tummy, “Go on, baby. You don’t have to be embarrassed! Babies like you go poopie in their pampers!”

Your face burns in embarrassment. Or maybe from the effort of holding it.

All you know is you cannot mess your diaper like this in front of them. It’s bad enough being seen like this—but you won’t give them the satisfaction of pooping your diaper.

“Poor baby, trying to hold it,” Mary coos, “Just let go for us. We know you’re just a baby. Don’t pretend to be a big boy. It’s okay! Just push all your ickies into your diaper, and it will all be over.”

“I think it’s cute,” Lauren giggles, “Does he actually think if he holds it, we won’t see him as a baby? Well, kiddo, about that…nobody will ever see you as an adult ever again. Besides, we’re going to be here all night babysitting you. We’ll see your stinky tushie sooner or later!”

They’re babysitting you tonight?

Lauren sees the look of confusion on your face. “Oh, does he not know we're babysitting him, Fiona?”

The thought distracts you from your cramps, forcing out a loud, bubbly toot followed by a small amount of mess.

“Good job, baby!” Mary says encouragingly, “You can do it!”

Mommy just smiles.

“Why would I tell a baby my plans? What Mommy does in her free time is of no concern for him, is it baby? All he needs to worry about is when he’ll be changed.”

Mommy is planning on going somewhere?

Another grumbly toot trumpets into your diaper. You grunt as you push warm mush into your diaper.

Despite the overwhelming humiliation of losing the battle in front of Mommy’s friends, you’re more concerned about Mommy leaving you.

“I think the baby is finally making pushies!” Mary shouts, “Is that bulge in your diapie poopie, baby? Yes it is! Yes it is!”

Lauren slides your pacifier into your mouth between grunts. “Here, sweetie. Suckle on your paci while you go poopoo.”

Mommy stands up. “Do you two mind watching him for a bit while I shower? He’ll probably be going for a while. Prunes go straight through him.”

“Not at all, Fiona! You’ve been excited for this date since you put him back in diapers!”

No. No. No! Mommy is going on a date?

You look at Mommy, who doesn’t have even the slightest trace of shame. If anything, she looks more radiant than usual.

“Thanks, girls. I’ll show you how to change him when I get back.”

Your attempt to get up and follow her are foiled by another large cramp. Instead of following your wife, you push another round of mush into your diaper.

“Oh, honey!” Mary coos, rubbing your hair and rattling a toy for you, “Mommy will be back in a bit, I promise. Are you almost done pushing?”

You hate the way Mary talks to you.

She knows why you’re upset—you’re not an actual baby!

Your wife and her friends are casually talking about her going on a date with someone named Mark, but Mary has the audacity to make it seem like it’s because you’re an infant with separation anxiety?

“Sweetie pie, what did you expect?” Lauren chides, “I mean, look at you! You’re pooping your diaper during tummy time! Do you really think your Mommy—or any woman—would ever want to be with you after that?”

You want to argue but can't bring yourself to look her in the eye.

“Baby, you made your choice. This is what you wanted. You gave up your adulthood to be pampered by your Mommy. You’re a baby—not a husband. So guess what? Your Mommy has needs babies can’t satisfy.”

Tears well in your eyes.

“Aww, don’t cry, honey,” Mary says as she wipes the tears from your eyes. “Be nice to him, Lauren. He can’t help it! He’s just a baby!”

“I think you have a soft spot for the baby, Mary,” Lauren teases, “You just love helpless things.”

“Guilty. And what’s more helpless than a baby in a poopy diaper? Poor thing, you should never have been allowed to grow up, huh, kiddo? Don’t you fuss about Mommy. She loves you very, very much, okay?”

You look into Mary’s eyes. To your surprise, you don’t find a hint of mockery—only authentic concern and affection.

And for some reason, that makes everything worse.

Lauren may taunt and tease you, but at least she’s recognizing you’re an adult when she does. Unlike Mary.

Mary genuinely sees you as a baby; that much is clear.

You squirm at the realization. You passed the point of no return.

This isn’t a game anymore. It’s not a fun role play between you and your wife.

This is your life.

“You look stunning!” Lauren shouts when she sees Mommy come back into the room in a red dress you had never seen before.

Lauren wasn’t lying. If anything she was underselling how beautiful your wife looked.

She looked so good you forgot about your rapidly cooling messy diaper. You forgot her friends were here to babysit you.

Forgot she was your Mommy.

For the first time since her friends arrived, you found your voice. “Babe, you look amazing!”

“Awww, you’re so sweet, little one,” Mommy says before dramatically sniffing the air, “But Mommy is more concerned about your stinky bum. Babies get diaper changes, not dates, silly!”

“He definitely needs a changie! Such a stinky boy!” Mary adds unhelpfully.

The momentary bliss fades away as you remember you’re about to have your poopy diaper changed.

You stare longingly at your Mommy in her dress as she grabs your diaper bag.

“No, no, we got this, Fiona. That dress shouldn’t be anywhere near a poopy diaper,” Mary assures her.

“Are you sure?”

“Your baby is in good hands. You’re off the clock. Go have fun with Mark.”

You pretend you don’t see her wink.

“Ugh, thank you! You guys are the best!” she says before turning to you, “You behave for your babysitters, honey. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you, sweetie!”

She blows you a kiss as she walks out the door, leaving you with a poopy diaper in desperate need of a change.

“Alright, mister,” Mary says patting your diaper, “Let’s get you out of that icky diapie so we can play!”

The way Lauren laughs sends shivers down your spine.

“We’re going to have so much fun getting to know the real you, baby!”

[devillilly-san]

You think you're so clever, sitting on the playroom floor as I bring my latest girlfriend over to meet you.

Yes, your diaper is soggy and messy. You can't stand due to the spiked booties wrapped around your feet. Your mittened hands keep you from manipulating even a crayon. And you can't even talk with the oversized paci strapped into your mouth.

But, even with all that, you think you can get one over me, writing out the word, 'HELP,' with your you blocks for this stranger to you to see.

There is a gleam in your eyes as the beautiful woman bends down to pinch your cheek and reads your little note.

"Help with what, cutie? A diaper change?" She chuckles, "You're definitely a stinker, but I'm sure that diaper your Papa put you in can hold a bit more."

Shock fills your eyes as you desperately try to grunt out clarification. Trying to get the woman to understand you are trying to escape.

"You're probably hungry," she continues, ignoring your distress, "Babies are always hungry. How about this, when I am all done playing with your Papa, I'll come get you and Miss Cassie can give you a real feeding."

I laugh as you smash your mittened fists on the ground in frustration.

Cassie leans in and whispers in your ear.

"Your Papa told me you would try to get me to help you escape, baby. But, you and me? I think our future is filled with much more fun than that! Don't you?"

[devillilly-san]

Running Up That Hill

This caption is for a very shy diaper girl. She’s a widdle scared of the world knowing who she is. But I do!

“Oh my gosh, this is so cute! It looks just like a real nursery! She actually lives like this? Isn’t she older than me?”

You cower behind Daddy as the new woman Daddy brought home takes in your nursery. They discuss you and your diapers so casually, so matter-of-factly that you feel like the toddler she obviously thinks you are.

“Seriously, I can’t right now. I mean, look at all the colors, the decorations, the diaper supplies! Ugh, it’s adorable! I’d have no idea this was an adult’s room if it wasn’t for the massive crib, changing table, and stacks of oversized diapers!”

Daddy laughs. “Adult? Don’t get it confused, my little pamper packer here may be older than you, but she’s not an adult, are you, Princess?”

You feel your face burning as they both look at you expectantly. “N-nuh uh, Daddy, not adult,” you whisper, knowing not to disobey Daddy in front of company.

“Good girl,” Daddy coos, giving your diaper a playful slap.

“She’s adorable! So well behaved, too!” she says, her voice thick with derision.

“Thank you! She’s Daddy’s special girl!”

Her face suddenly lights up. “No way, is she actually peeing herself?!?” she screams excitedly.

Daddy looks over at you. You look back at them, confused. You’re not peeing, that much you know. You would know if you were.

“Oh my god, she is!” she screams, “look at her diaper! You can see her tinkles spreading! I can’t believe it!”

You grab your diaper, still positive she’s making it up. Until you feel your diaper. It���s warm. Your eyes are wide in terror.

Before you can do anything her hand is reaching down at your diaper, grabbing it as your pee continues to flow. “It’s so warm and thick! You’re actually peeing yourself in front of us like a baby!”

Daddy looks at you, his face both confused and excited. “Did you know you were peeing yourself, Princess?”

“I-I-I…,” your eyes fill with tears, “D-daddy!!!”

“Oh, come here, silly,” Daddy says, wrapping you in his arms, “looks like you’re finally unpotty trained! You should be excited!”

Becoming unpotty trained had been your goal when you started wearing diapers. But that was before you truly understood the reality of life as Daddy’s diaper girl.

All you wanted was to wear diapers. Maybe have Daddy tease you here and there for them. Just basic, casual fun.

Like all diaper girls, you thought you could have your cake and eat it too. It’s adorably naïve.

You actually believed you could wear diapers 24/7, having Daddy care for you, check and change your diapers and still be treated like an adult. It’s absurd.

If you wear diapers like a baby, squat down and fill your diapers with stinkies like a baby, and rely on your caregiver to change your diapers like a baby—surely you cannot expect to be treated anything but a baby.

“Wait!” she screams, “she’s unpotty trained?! Like she’s been wearing diapers so long she actually needs them? That’s so pathetic!”

It’s too much for you. You won’t let some girl younger than you tease you.

“I’m not a baby, you bitch!” you scream, stomping your feet.

You knew you were in trouble the moment you said it. Daddy looked at you as if you just slapped him. Thick, heavy silence hung in the room as they both stared at you.

“I-I-I d-didn’t m-mean it, D-daddy,” you sob.

More silence.

Daddy looks over at her. “I’m sorry, Claire. She knows better than to act like a little brat.”

“It’s okay, poor thing probably couldn’t help it!”

“It’s not okay, is it, kiddo?” Daddy asks you sternly.

“N-no D-daddy, I n-not allowed to u-use n-naughty words anymore…”

“That’s right! And what happens when you do?”

“I h-have to l-lay over y-your lap…”

“Good girl. Do you have anything to say to Claire first?”

You look over to Claire, forcing yourself to ignore the smirk on her face. “I-I’m s-sorry for calling you a naughty word, C-claire,” you say sheepishly.

“It’s okay, little one. I know you didn’t mean it!”

Daddy reaches out his hand for you. You reluctantly grab it and follow him to your crib. Daddy puts the bars down and sits on the edge. He looks at you expectantly.

You hesitate, not wanting Claire to watch Daddy spank you. You couldn’t bear the thought of her watching you get spanked like some naughty toddler.

“B-but…Daddy…,” you mutter, looking at Claire.

Daddy only smiles. “Claire stays, babygirl. If you didn’t want her to see you get punished, you shouldn’t have been naughty. Lay down. Now.”

As you move toward Daddy, he suddenly stands up. “Oh, I almost forgot! Now that you’re unpotty trained, I can’t risk you tinkling on me!”

Daddy heads to the closet, bringing a package of puppy pads out. He opens it, unfolding one and placing it on his lap.

Claire loses it, giggling uncontrollably. “A puppy pad?!? Stop, that’s so embarrassing, even for a diaper girl! But I guess it’s necessary if she can’t hold her tinkles!”

Red-faced, you stand in front of Daddy as he rips the tabs off your diaper. The cold air forces you to shiver as your diaper is removed. He balls it up and hands it to you to hold.

“On my lap, babygirl,” he says sternly.

You lay down on Daddy’s lap—and the puppy pad—more humiliated than you’ve ever been in your life. You hold on to the diaper in your hand, doing your best to cover it up.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Claire’s laughter fills the room as Daddy’s spanking pauses. Tears pour down your face as you realize how infantile and pathetic you must look to Claire.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

More laughing. You look around your nursery. The monument to your place in life. You see all the horrifically infantile designs, the pastel colors, the supplies to keep you pathetically pampered.

You take it in. Everything in the room made you so beautifully squirmy when they were added. It’s was all so hot. But as you look at it—through Claire’s eyes—you realize how far you’ve fallen.

She doesn’t see you as an adult. She sees you as a toddler. You’re not a threat to her. You’re a cute sideshow. She’s going to sleep with Daddy tonight, not you.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

All the cute baby-patterned diapers and accessories that you loved so much stare back at you, each with a life of its own. They mock you, gloating that they trapped you in their world.

They know what you are. A helpless, diaper-dependent baby. They know this isn’t an adults room—it’s yours.

The only sex that would ever happen in this room is between Daddy and any woman he brings in here. A woman getting off knowing what you are. Proving she’s better than you.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

By now your butt is on fire. Your whimpers fueling Claire’s laughter. She can’t get enough of this pathetic display.

Daddy’s hand strokes your hair before turning your face to look at him. You look at him through your tears.

“I-I ‘m sorry, Daddy!” you plead, “I w-won’t use naughty words again, I promise!”

“I know you won’t, babygirl. Let’s get you in another diaper.”

You timidly stand up, hiding from Claire’s smirking. You preemptively head for the changing table.

“HAHAHHA no way!” Claire goads, “did she really pee on the puppy pad?”

Horrified, you look back. Daddy holds up the pad clearly wet with pee. You cover your face, too ashamed to meet anyone’s gaze.

“Let’s get you in a new diaper before you leak all over the floor, Princess.”

You obediently lay on the changing table, still covering your face.

“Can she wear this diaper?” Claire says, holding up your thick night time diaper.

“That’s what I was going to put her in! Gotta get this lil stinker in her night time diaper before bed!”

Claire watches—on comments—on the entire diaper change. You whimper through the whole thing. Halfway through, Daddy gave you your paci, which you happily accepted.

Once your diaper was taped on, Daddy helped you off the table, leading you to your toddler chair and table.

He sits you down, bringing you paper and a box of crayons.

“I want you to write an apology letter to Claire while we go have some fun. And it better be good.”

“B-but,” you beg, “I need a pen!”

“A pen?” Daddy scoffs, “you have crayons here! Diaper girls don’t need pens! Diaper girls use crayons, silly!”

With that, they head out. Your stomach sinks watching Claire all over Daddy.

You get to work, writing your apology letter to the woman who took your man. As you write, you hear them in the next room over. You try to ignore the moaning as you write.

“Dear Claire, I’m sorry I used naughty words. Daddy said I should never use those words when addressing an adult like you…”

[devillilly-san]

I hear the garage open and run to the garage door so I can greet Daddy when he gets home. Standing there, feeling confident in nothing but my lace thong and see-through teddy. Confident that I am going to get to play with Daddy, just as he promised me earlier when we talked on the phone during his lunch.

Waiting for him to open the door I get more and more antsy, I start shuffling back and forth. Feeling the overwhelming urge to tinkle, but forgetting any thought of that when the door opens and Daddy is standing in the entrance staring at me.

"Honey, what are you doing?" he asks me. Which isn't making any sense to me. I am doing what he said. He said 'We can play when I get home'... I am very obviously ready to play.

"I got ready so we could play as soon as you got home from work... just like you said." I am halfway to whining, and if I don't watch my tone then Daddy is going to spank me for being rude.

He is just looking at me... while a slow smile starts to move across his face. "You changed yourself? I remember putting you in a little princess diaper this morning. I don't see that now. Care to explain?"

I can't hold back my temper now. "You told me that we were going to play. I was just trying to speed up the process. What's the big deal?!"

I realize I have gone too far and make the split second decision that it's best that I run before I get in trouble. I take off down the hallway and can hear Daddy's belt coming through his belt loops as I duck behind the couch and hide hoping he will think I went to the bedroom.

I am trying to control my breathing... wondering where things went so wrong. He said he wanted to play... that normally means that he wants to have sex. Did I misunderstand what he was talking about?

I am so caught up in trying to figure out what my Daddy meant that I didn't realize he was standing right in front of me. He brings me back to earth when he picks me up and scares me. I scream and am reminded that I had to pee because my legs get drenched.

"Daddy! Wait! I didn't understand--" I am cut off when he places the belt in my mouth, bends me over the arm of the couch and delivers 10 firm spanks to my wet thong covered bottom. "This is why you aren't allowed to take off your diaper. Not only do I have to spank you for taking it off, I have to spank you for getting peepee on the couch. You really have been a naughty girl, haven't you?"

I can feel him running his dick up and down the length of my bottom. I know that he is about to give me what I wanted-- sex-- but not in the way I wanted.

He lines up with the entrance of my button hole and slowly starts to slide in. Daddy has been training my butt to be loose for him, but also so I don't have to worry about my poopies anymore. Another way for him to keep me in diapers 24/7.

He sets a punishing pace and causes me to lose my train of thought. I no longer feel the wetness at my feet, or the sting on my bottom. I feel nothing but pure ecstasy as I start to fall over the edge into oblivion. I am screaming out my husband's name, not his real name, but the one that I only call him when I am so far gone: "Dada." He normally knows that if I fall that far, he is about to have a very compliant little one on his hands.

He finishes and falls over the edge seconds after I do. Releasing his orgasm inside my bottom. I vaguely register that he is picking me up and carrying me to our nursery. Here he diapers me again, clothes me in a penguin onesie before bringing me out to the living room to have tummy time while he cleans up the mess I left behind and on the couch.

This isn't what I expected when he said we would play, but I am not mad at how it turned out.

[devillilly-san]

I crawl into the bedroom and my eyes bulge. My wife is sitting on the edge of the bed in her red lingerie, the set that she knows always drives me wild, with her legs spread. One of her well manicured hands is tucked into her panties, slowly rubbing herself as she moans out in pleasure.

"Mmm... Ollie... Come here... Mommy needs you," she purrs as she beckons me to come closer with her free hand.

I can feel my manhood swell beneath my swollen diaper as I quickly draw closer to her on all fours. It is only upon reaching her that I notice Mrs. Bear, my favorite stuffie, laying on the floor between my legs.

Before I can fully comprehend what's happening though, I feel a familiar, feminine hand reach behind my head, tangle itself in my hair, and forcefully pull me between my wife's legs.

"Did you not hear me?" She says sternly, bending down to pluck the pacifier out of my mouth as I settle down, straddling Mrs. Bear, "Mommy needs you, baby."

My eyes drop from my wife's down to what's in front of me. During my crawl, she's removed her panties, leaving her beautiful, wet lips bare, directly in front of me.

I feel the hand on my head pull me closer again, this time guiding my lips to those of my wife's. Like a man who hasn't eaten in days, I open my mouth, and go to work devouring my wife's clit.

"Mmm... That's it... Fuck... Good boy!" Mommy moans as my tongue teases and flicks her before diving deep into her depths, "So... Fucking... Good!"

I look up at her while on my knees, staring past her immaculate breasts to her beautiful face. Her eyes are shut. She's biting one of her lips. I can't help but begin to rut into Mrs. Bear as I look at her, but I never stop pleasuring her with my mouth.

"That's it, baby! That's it!" She moans, gripping my hair tighter, and squeezing the sides of my head with her thighs.

I start to moan into her myself, my own pleasure overwhelming me, and adding to hers.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" She cries out as her body tenses and convulses around me, "Mommy's gonna cum!"

And she does.

Liquid hits my face as pleasure overtakes her. She releases my hair, leans back, and screams. I continue to lick and suck her while, simultaneously, allowing myself to release into my diaper. The joy of providing such an adult service for my wife and the sensation of rutting my hips into my stuffed bear overwhelming me.

I moan into my wife as she screams into the world.

The moment seems to both last forever and no time at all.

When it's over, Mommy spreads her legs wider, releasing me from her thighs, and gently coaxes me onto the bed. She pulls my head to her chest and holds me. The fingers of one hand trail through my hair, providing a sharp contrast to the strong hold she had on it earlier.

"I love you, Ollie," she says softly, kissing the top of my head.

"I love you too, Mommy," I say, nuzzling deeper into her.

And we stay right there, holding each other in bliss, as content exhaustion slowly overtakes us.