Last update
2023-03-30 22:03:54

    This one's a classic – free from the archive at last, and publicly available on Wordpress!




    After a long and arduous first year of college you needed a brake you decided you need a time for yourself and to relax and let lose a little. While looking you discovered a place called The Adult Nursery you read into it and decided to take a look for yourself making an appointment for yourself . You would arrive there in the morning and sign in and meet them. You chatted with them and they told you about their program and what they do here . They told you about the Regression and Infantilization process and the diaper dependency . You would expressed your interest in staying for the summer as a way for you to relax and clear your head . They would offer you just that , you inquired about cost but they said staying here was free of charge and hassle free. You seeing no good reason not to you agreed to stay with them and sign up .  Once you finish the paperwork they would take you away into the nursery and what have you changed out of your regular clothes and into a onesie and diapers . You would be encouraged to play around and explore your area and room . You did so for a while but decided to take a nap and rest. You were awake a little while later needing to go but seeing that the door was locked you eased yourself into messing your diaper soaking it the warmth and sogginess making you aroused a feeling you didn’t expect wearing these would give you .  You would sit in it for awhile until a nurse would arrive and brought you a new diaper and a bottle to have . She would change you and then feed you after finishing you would be burped finding it funny.  your bedtime would be at 7 pm and the nurses would secure you into your crib saying that this was a usually precaution they took with new ones . She would then leave and shut off the lines leaving you alone in your crib with your night bottom  you drink it before falling asleep find the first day here relaxing.

    The following morning you would awake to feel odd and tingly, you would feel the warmth and sogginess of your diaper and you try to move but your muscles felt asleep or incredibly relaxed basically useless , you trying to sit up but couldn’t feeling like you couldn’t no more . Soon enough a nurse would arrive with new diapers and a bottle . You would ask her why you were numb and paralyzed she would respond by saying they gave you a string of muscle relaxers and Incontinence medicine in your bottles to make you more like an infant and this is how it’s going to be for the duration of your stay here . She assured you that they would take good care of you and your needs and you have nothing to worry about . She would proceed to change out your diaper and proceeded to feed you your morning bottle . She would burp you and before leaving you she would put a pacifier in your mouth and say she would be back soon before shutting the door. lying in your crib you would think to yourself that this was all a part of the experience and you would get used to it soon enough. As the days and weeks gone by here you would begin to become accustom to the new lifestyle and your infantilized body . You gain immense pleasure and arousal from messing your diaper and see it as almost superior to your toilet at home. Finally as the Summer came to an end and you would have to resume your life you request one of the things from your time here to be carried over you requested to become Diaper Dependent. Before leaving you had a procedure there provided by them to become fully Incontinence and become Diaper Dependent. You would eventually go home to resume your life preparing for the year ahead but now a diaper dependent girl. Your time in the nursery changed you and gave you a new outlook on things and love for it and you wanted more and would go on to spend every summer there and eventually after finishing your studies you would decide to go and live there permanently as the Regressed and Infantilized diaper dependent girl you wanted to be.

    I don’t need a bimbo. I don’t want a whore or a slut. I want a slave. Property, A pet. One that knows it is inferior to all Men but wishes to serve one Man above all else… to obey and cherish the Man that’s given it its new life. Humiliation, both public and private must make it’s little cunt throb. it wishes to leave its old life as a responsible female behind entirely. it no longer wants to make decisions but instead hopes to find a Man that will make every decision, large and small for it. it’s never told anyone about its desires….its true self but yearns to finally share itself….its thoughts, its wants and opinions with a Man, even though it knows they pale in comparison to His own. it wants to be little more than a set of tits and three warm wet holes for the right Man…a slave to whatever whims He dreams up for it…. In that environment, it truly will find a home.

    The Start of It All

    I sat on the floor of my Mommy’s room, legs splayed with a coloring book and some crayons on the floor. Mommy was in the bathroom, standing at her sink and inspecting her reflection in the mirror as she was getting ready for her date. 

    This was the first time she was going out, leaving me at home under the care of a mutual friend. When we first started dating, Mommy and I would sleep in her big bed together and go out on dates all the time. But since she started putting me in diapers a few months, I had been relegated to the guest room. 

    It had started as something she suggested when the stress from my work started to catch up with me at night. I always struggled to keep my bed dry growing up, and by the time my parents were tired of buying their teenage daughter diapers, I only had accidents when I was feeling really fried.

    When I started wetting the bed a few months ago, Mommy suggested that I wear diapers to bed. I was completely against the idea, not wanting to return to the place of self-consciousness and embarrassment at having to wear protection to bed. I tried to argue, but Mommy wasn’t having any of it.

    “Pleeeeeaase?” I begged, my voice slipping into more of a whine than I wanted while trying to prove my adulthood. 

    “Tell you what, girlie. Starting tomorrow, if you wake up in a wet bed more than twice, I’m putting you in diapers.” Mommy stated calmly, rubbing my thigh to soothe me. I felt my cheeks flush. I knew I would likely fail.

    By Tuesday, Mommy came home from work with a pack of diapers under her arm. She hadn’t even taken off her coat or put down her things before I was voicing my displeasure.

    “Noooo I don’t need those,” I whined as I followed her around the house. She didn’t acknowledge me, and instead went to the guest room and placed the diapers on the bed. I was on her heels and gave her a questioning look once we were in the room.

    “I got a plastic sheet for this bed,” Mommy explained, noting the look of confusion on my face. “I don’t want you ruining my nice mattress, and as a matter of fact, I think your behavior these past few weeks has be convinced this will be for the best.”

    “I can’t help it! I just sometime have accidents at night when I feel stressed!” I pleaded, not entirely sure what all of “this” entailed. 

    “Sweetie, even when you do keep your bed dry, you act like a toddler most the time. I’ve been thinking about this for a while; your recent nighttime troubles just convinced me this is what you need,” she told me. Her voice was sweet and syrupy, bringing more blood to my face as she led me by the shoulder to the bed. 

    “I don’t! I’m an adult and I just am having a rough week!” I protested, trying to keep the whine out of my voice. I tried to struggle against Mommy’s hold on my shoulder, but she tightened her grip when she felt my resistance. 

    “Sweetheart, when we are sitting down to dinner and trying to find something on to watch, if I let you pick, where do you always look?” she asked, using both hands to sit me down on the bed.

    “Uhm, I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to answer. “You go to Disney+. And, if I’m picking and choose something more grown-up, you get so fussy and complain about how boring it is,” she said as she pushed me back into a lying position on the bed. “If we are having a big dinner that needs cutting up, do you cut it up yourself or ask me to help you?”

    I didn’t answer her, choosing to turn my head to the wall and stare it. My thoughts were racing around in my head. I knew that Mommy liked it when I played a little bratty, and it sounds like maybe I played too far into that. I wasn’t a baby though!  

    As I turned my head and opened my mouth to say such, a pacifier was slipped past my lips. Without thinking, my mouth started to work the nipple and I felt my heart rate slow a little. 

    “See, sweetie? This is for the best,” she said as she moved to undo my jeans. “I know it’s not bedtime yet, though yours will be much earlier than it used to. I think we should start you in diapers at home all the time. I’ve seen your undies when I do our laundry, and you have little pee-pee accidents in them all the time, don’t you?” she asked, tickling my tummy. 

    “I don’t wet my pants! Those are just tiny little spots,” I pouted behind my pacifier.

    “Anyone who ruins their undies like you do deserves to be in diapers,” she said with a certain finality that I knew I’d have to revisit this in a few days if I wanted to change her mind. Her hands were poised at the top of my jeans, getting ready to unbutton them and take them off. I missed when she opened the package, but a thick, folded diaper lay next to me on the bed, some wipes and powder next to it.

    “Please don’t,” I whined through my pacifier, but she ignored me as she pulled my pants down and started getting me into my first diaper in years.


    More to come on this! I have lots of ideas for where I want it to go! [18+ only; minors dni]

    “Look how precious she is!” I hear Melody from behind me, over at the hallway. Her voice draws me away from my crayons and colouring, things I love playing with, and rolls me onto my back. I curl my legs up from the floor, drag my blankie along with my right hand and lull my neck round to look up and over at her, standing across the room.

    I just can’t help myself. I hear the warm, glowing sound of Melody’s voice cooing at me and I flutter my eye lashes and do everything in my power to be tiny and cute. It feels as though I am compelled to do it and I wouldn’t be able to act any other way, even if I wanted to. I have to be adored by her, no matter what.

    She isn’t alone. It makes sense, considering the way she’s speaking. Talking about me, not to me.

    I don’t know that woman. She and Melody seem to know each other well. They’re standing so close together, almost holding hands. Why isn’t she that close to me? I feel like I need Melody to sit beside me and stroke my head, legs, tummy - anything! Just be close to me.

    The new woman is looking at me in awe, but not the shocked and repulsed kind most people go to when they see a woman in her twenties wiggling around on the floor in a diaper, sucking a pacifier, and clearly lusting for attention. She seems to be spellbound by me, saying, “Oh my God, yeah. She really is!”

    A stranger fawning over me as I babble helplessly below them? I’m almost sickened by how much I’m loving it. How much I need her to keep going. Say more sweet things. Find me even more precious. Damn, my patheticness is so humiliating and I can’t get enough of it.

    “Awww, I think she wants some belly rubs, huh?” Melody has a way of speaking that’s almost like singing. She’s a Siren with me under her spell.

    I wiggle on my back even more to show how much I want those belly rubs. I need her, both of them, down here to dote on me. I’m such a good baby. So cute they have to love me. And they do.

    Both hurry over to me, sending floods of unstoppable excitement through my body. Melody sits on the edge of the fur rug, her knee resting close to my head so she can look down from above me. The other woman on her right, kneeling closer to my legs as they feebly kick just a little bit. Almost instantly Melody’s hand is on my tummy, running back and forth, sending me onto fits of giggles.

    I can see how captivated by me the other woman is. I want her to play with me too, not just look at me. Her focus is clearly on my diaper, despite how hard she is trying not to stare. She keeps flicking her eyes all over me but lingering on the crisp white padding I’m showing off down there. I guess that is the stand out thing about my image right now. Maybe I should try wet? That would really get her interested.

    My mind and body are in sync today. I only had to consider the option of peeing for the need to arrive with urgency. I won’t hold back either. A little baby like me can’t hold it, can she?

    The warmth and ecstatic release is all encompassing. My diaper will get so squishy and keep this warmth for a while. I’m certain it’s obvious too, with my legs splayed up like this so the whole world can see. Melody certainly catches on straight away and reacts as perfectly as I could hope.

    “Awww. Uh-oh! Someone’s a pee-pee pants.” She always knows exactly what to say to make me squirm. I can’t help but squeak as Melody finishes a belly rub and slides her hand down onto my diaper, pressing down on the expanding warm patch. She squeezes the thickening bulge, driving another sound, more like a moan, out from behind my pacifier.

    The other woman is obviously entranced by my diaper and it’s growth. The padding is swelling significantly and sagging down at my butt thanks to gravity. It must be quite a sight. Melody is clearly pleased with my wetting, now patting my expanding groin to feel the warmth.

    “Come on, take a closer look,” Melody says, motioning to my quickly filling diaper. The other woman hesitantly reaches towards my padding and gently places her hand on my bulging diaper. I can hardly feel her there through the thickness, becoming more and more soggy. She is staring down there now, allowing all her focus to stay there. All my focus is on her. I want her to be enamoured with me.

    Melody places her hand on my thigh and gives it a soft rub and squeeze. A shiver runs through me at the touch, bringing another gentle moan out from behind my pacifier. Thanks to the shiver I squirm slightly which makes me push my hips up, pressing my padded crotch against the woman’s hand. I feel the pressure from her. I’m still peeing but it’s slowing to a dribble now. The woman keeps her hand pressed a little more firmly against my diaper and looks over to Melody who’s contently smiling at her. The woman giggles, stifling her slightly awkward laugh. It’s not an uncomfortable awkwardness though. I can feel the eagerness she is holding back.

    “It’s so warm.” She says to Melody who’d nods.

    “Soggy diapers are always warm when a little cutie has just gone pee-pee,” Melody teases, looking straight at me. I giggle and squirm more. This time the woman presses back as my crotch pushes against her hand. I feel her really getting a good feel of my diaper. Then she squeezes it. A proper full hand tight squeeze which presses the sodded padding against me down there and brings out the most enjoyable moan so far. They both giggle at me as my little control slips away and I push myself against her hand more, practically humping it.

    It feels ecstatic. I’m so desperate for this attention from a beautiful stranger. She must think I’m so small, so pathetic, so infantile. Just a plaything for her and Melody to tease and toy with. That’s all I want. I want to be their good baby and I’ll do anything to make them adore me.


    Such a naughty little baby, now you can pout all you want as you fill your diaper in bed


    When her fiancé found out about her spring break plans, he decided that she needed to be reminded of her status as HIS little girl. So Sandra is spending Spring break as her fiancés baby girl whether she likes it or not.

    To drive the lesson home she is being kept as a newborn this week. That includes liquid meal replacements and formula, 24/7 diapers, no walking, no talking, and a 1 hour nap time after every feeding time which occurs every 4 hours around the clock.she is kept tied down at all times to ensure she stays laying on her back, and a paci gag keeps her from being able to talk ensuring she communicates through grunts, groans, and crying.

    After a week of no stress, no responsibility, and no moving, Sandra is already starting to face the impacts of being treated as a new born. This includes softer and harder to control bms, wetting before she realizes she needs to go, and the start of muscle loss from not using them.

    Her behavior for the rest of the semester and grades will determine how old she is treated for the summer. If she is perfectly behaved and gets all A’s she will be treated as a big girl, she could also be treated as a teen, a preteen, a kid, a kindergartner, a preschooler, a toddler, an infant, or she could even spend all summer as a newborn by the end of which she may struggle to physically perform basic adult tasks like talking, walking, and using the potty.

    It will all be determined by her decisions over the next couple of months.

    Chloe stared at the screen, unable to tear her eyes away. She knew it was just some stupid kid’s show, but for some reason she really, really wanted to keep watching. When her boyfriend had guided her over to the sofa and turned on a dumb, live-action baby program, apparently expecting her to be entertained by it, she’d almost exploded at him. But a couple of seconds of the pretty, brightly coloured show were enough to settle her down.

    It wasn’t like all kid’s shows were stupid after all. Even adults could enjoy some of them. And wouldn’t it be nice to turn her brain off for a little while? Wouldn’t it be relaxing? Life had been stressful lately after all, ever since her boyfriend had found out she’d been texting that other guy.

    A young woman bounded onto the screen. She looked to be around Chloe’s age, wearing jeans and a stylish top. “Hiya everyone!” she said enthusiastically, using the exaggeratedly excited voice that nursery-school teachers often used. “Are you ready to learn about being a good girl?”

    Chloe watched with her mouth slightly open. A good girl. That sounded nice. Didn’t it? Didn’t she want to be a good girl?

    Behind the woman on the screen, strange lights and patterns spun around, and there was a pleasant, tinkling music that jingled faintly in the back of Chloe’s mind.

    “That’s great!” the young woman said, smiling brightly. “First thing's first, you’ve gotta dress like a good girl.” She pulled a face. “My boyfriend says grown-up clothes are icky. They’re not for little girls like us.”

    Something felt a little bit off about that, but Chloe couldn’t figure out what it was. She was too busy focusing on the girl on screen, and the pretty lights and sounds in the background.

    “We’d better let our Daddies take them off,” she continued, as a tall man walked onto the screen next to her, his head cut off by the height of the camera.

    Chloe became aware that her own boyfriend was kneeling down next to her, undoing the buttons of her jeans and sliding them down her legs.

    The man on the television was doing the same, taking off his girlfriend’s trousers, lifting her shirt up over her head, even sliding her underwear down to her ankles and unclasping her bra, until she was totally nude on screen, bare-titted with her pussy on display for all to see.

    Something was gnawing at the back of Chloe’s mind. Was it okay for her to be naked like that? Wasn’t that naughty?

    “These have to go in the bin,” the girl said a little sadly, holding up her clothes after her boyfriend handed them to her. She looked mournfully at the skinny jeans and tight top for a moment before dropping them into a trash can that had appeared next to her. “But don’t worry!” she chirped, her smile returning. “Your Daddy will get you lots of new clothes!”

    Something gnawed at Chloe’s mind again. Was Daddy throwing away her clothes? She liked her jeans. She looked cute in them. But the pretty colours and the sweet music and the girl on the screen’s happy voice were enough to drown out her concerns. She was learning how to be a good girl. She had to do as she was told.

    The girl’s Daddy was sliding a pair of thigh-high socks up her legs, and Chloe realised her own Daddy was doing the same thing. She wanted to look at him, but the show was just so captivating.

    Then the man on the screen pulled out a large, disposable adult diaper. Chloe felt a thrill of horror. Nappies? The girl on the screen stood still obediently, her legs apart, while her Daddy pulled the thick, bulky diaper up between her legs and taped it around her waist. Why was she wearing nappies? That wasn’t right!

    “Be a good girl,” said the young woman on the screen, smiling at the camera, and Chloe felt herself relax. She had to be good. She had to learn how to be a good girl.

    She heard crinkling, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Daddy holding something large and white and puffy. He lifted her legs into the air and slipped it under her bottom, and when he lowered her back down, Chloe felt her tushy resting on something very soft. Then Daddy got to work at her waist, taping her nappy up, sealing her womanhood behind a layer of thick padding.

    The sweet music continued to tinkle in Chloe’s ears, and the pretty lights shone and swirled behind the characters on the screen. She had to be a good girl, and good girls wore nappies.

    Once the tall man had finished diapering the girl on the screen, he stepped back, his work complete. The young woman blushed. She was standing there in nothing but her nappy and her socks.

    “I feel really silly,” she confided, looking embarrassed. “But that’s okay. Girls are supposed to be silly. Silly little babies.” She stuck out her tongue and went cross-eyed, as if to prove it. Then she giggled, and Chloe felt a giggle bubbling up from her throat as well. A happy, gurgling giggle. She was a silly girl. A silly baby.

    Suddenly, the young woman on the screen gasped and looked down at her diaper. Chloe looked down at it too. The front was darkening, yellowing, and it was starting to sag lower and lower between the girl’s legs.

    “Uh-oh!” she said, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. “I’m going pee-pee!” The colours behind her pulsed even more brightly. “But that’s okay. Stupid little girls like us aren’t potty trained. We just go in our pants the moment we feel the urge!”

    Chloe stared at the screen, her eyes glazed, her mouth slightly open. Without thinking about it, without even realising what she was doing, Chloe started peeing in her nappy as well.

    “No more toilets for us!” the girl announced, and Chloe found herself nodding along in agreement as warmth spread across her crotch, drenching the thirsty padding. No more toilets. Those were for big girls. Dumb babies like her wet their pants instead.

    The tall man stepped forward and slipped a finger into the leg-band of the girl’s nappy, probing the sodden padding between her legs for a few moments before withdrawing his finger and ruffling her hair affectionately. Chloe felt her Daddy do the same thing to her. Checking her nappy. Checking for wee-wees.

    The girl beamed up at her Daddy, clearly totally infatuated, and then she turned back to the camera. “Just because you’ve had your nappy checked, it doesn’t mean you’ll get a change straight away.” She shifted from foot to foot, looking down at the sopping wet diaper dangling between her legs. Then she looked up again, sticking out her bottom lip petulantly. “I don’t normally get a change until I’ve done a stinky,” she pouted. “It’s so yucky being in a wet nappy, but it’s what stupid little girls like us deserve.”

    Chloe nodded again. Being in a pissy nappy was just something she’d have to get used to. She shifted on the sofa a little, causing her yucky wet diaper to squish horribly between her legs. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she didn’t take her eyes of the screen. It was what she deserved.

    “Well, that’s all we have time for today!” said the girl happily. The tall man started tickling her sides and she squealed with laughter. “Bye-bye for now!” she gasped between giggles. “And remember to be a good little girl! I’ll see you next time!”

    The screen went dark, and Chloe saw herself reflected in it, bare-breasted, dressed in nothing but her thigh-high socks and a clearly soaked nappy. She blinked and looked up at her boyfriend. Her Daddy.

    “I’m sowwy, Daddy!” she whimpered tearfully. “Sowwy for being naughty.” She knew what she’d done. She’d tried to cheat on him. She’d been a very bad baby.

    “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You know what you are now, don’t you?”

    “I’m a thtupid wittle giwl!” Chloe lisped fiercely.

    Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was screaming at herself that this was wrong, that her boyfriend had tricked her, hypnotised her into being some dumb baby-woman out of revenge for trying to cheat on him, but it didn’t matter. Her new self was in control now, and her old identity could do nothing but watch.

    I’m such a stupid baby, Chloe thought. I can’t believe I ever thought I was too good for Daddy. I’m gonna be his silly little girl, incontinent and chaste, forever and ever. It’s what I deserve. I love my Daddy so much!


    More content on Patreon for those who are interested.


    Everybody had warned Heather to avoid the student mental health clinic due to their strange experimental treatments. But nobody would say anything more then that about what the treatments entailed.

    Now, 2 hours after arriving, she is leaving with a prescribed schedule of feedings, diaper changes, naps, and bedtimes. Today she will be helped by her nurse to move out of her dorm room into her new room at the clinic. She will be spending anywhere from 30 days to the rest of the semester under the direct care of the clinic including monitored homework time for up to 4 hours a er day on weekdays and 8 hours per day on weekends. She will be put to bed in a crib for nap times and bedtimes. She will be fed by her nurse in a high chair and given bottles every 2 hours on her nurses lap.

    According to the clinic included in the paperwork she signed was an irrevocable authorization to participate in the experimental treatment program to help her with the anxiety and depression she was experiencing from being away from home and the stress of school and adult life. The clinic staff claims that everybody who comes through leaves in a better state of mind and with better grades then they came in.

    Her friends who warned her about the clinic did all seem to be well adjusted and top of their class, so maybe the clinic was onto something.

    What she doesn’t know is that those same friends still have to go to the clinic multiple times a day for diaper changes and always get another bottle fed to them after their change. And the one friend who tried to avoid it, ended up in a locking diaper cover for a week to reinforce her dependence on the program. And the contract they all signed bonds them to continuing their treatment until they get their degrees or drop out of college with a note attached to their file preventing them from enrolling in another college without teen rolling in the experimental treatment clinic on that college’s campus.

    Mummy's Girl - Part 1

    Kimmy might be a twenty-two year-old-woman, but her potty skills have never been up to the level of her peers. Living firmly under the thumb of her controlling, condescending mother, she desperately wants to live an ordinary life of a girl her age, to make friends and go on dates and, above all, to say goodbye to dirty diapers for good. Unfortunately, her Mama has other ideas...


    Kimmy hurried up to the front door as quickly and quietly as she could, praying her mother was preoccupied with something and wouldn’t notice her sneaking into the house so late – it was almost eight thirty in the evening, which meant it was past her bedtime. She tottered a little unsteadily up the drive, thanks in part to the half a dozen or so shots of vodka she’d had with her college friends at the bar after lectures. But there was another thing making her walk a little strangely; a thick pair of oversized Huggies pull-ups were pushing her thighs apart, and one of her hands was pressed urgently against her crotch as she fought desperately not to wet herself.

    If it wasn’t for her babyish training pants and the childish clothes she was dressed in (a pale pink frock that could just barely pass for something a grown woman might wear), Kimmy would have looked the part of the archetypal blonde bombshell. As it was, her long golden hair looked more cute than sexy in braided pigtails, and her generous chest was hidden, crammed inside her tight blouse. Her bright blue eyes, plump lips, and perfect complexion were model-like, but at present her features were scrunched up with the effort of holding her aching bladder.

    Nevertheless, there was no doubt that Kimmy was a beautiful, fully-grown woman. Although the toddler’s pull-ups she wore instead of adult underwear didn’t make her feel that way, she was actually two or three years older than most of her peers at university. It was her mother’s doing, of course. Mrs Jones had decided on three separate occasions that her daughter ‘simply wasn’t mature enough’ to move on to the next school year, and had insisted she be held back – once in kindergarten, then twice over the course of primary school, making her much older than her classmates. But she’d been the only one still toddling off to the nurse’s office at breaktime for diaper changes. At least she’d kicked her pants-pooping habit by the time she’d moved on to secondary school, even if she did still have to contend with wet training pants on a regular basis.

    Now, though, the age difference wasn’t nearly as important as it had been, and even her pee-pee issues had almost completely dried up. At long last, Kimmy was free in a way she’d never been before, free from the humiliation of being a grown woman who still went to the bathroom in her own pants. She only wished she could be free from her mother’s constant coddling as well. She’d been worried her mum wouldn’t allow her to go to college at all, but with enough badgering, she’d eventually relented – on the condition that Kimmy choose a local university, and live at home rather than at a dorm. Unfortunately, that meant dealing with the same rules she’d had since the age of six.

    “What time do you call this, Kimmy?!” her mother thundered the moment Kimmy entered the house. “It’s past your bedtime, little girl! Where have you been?!”

    Kimmy let out a whimper and felt the familiar sensation of her bladder letting go in her pants. Warm pee flooded into her pull-ups at once, accompanied by a faint hissing sound. It had been a feeble hope, but there was a small chance she could have slipped in without her mother noticing if she’d been taking a bath or something. But she ought to have known better; her mum had never once failed to catch her breaking a rule in all her life.

    Apart from being a little plumper, Mrs Jones looked exactly like an aged-up version of her daughter; the same golden blonde hair, only tied up in a tight knot behind her head rather than arranged in childish pigtails, the same large breasts, though in her case her assets were proudly on display in a tastefully tempting, low-cut top, and the same crystal blue eyes and full lips, perhaps a little less pouty than her daughter’s, but painted a deep, sensuous red. The most dramatic difference between them were their expressions, however. While Kimmy looked shy and sweet, her mother gave off an impression of severity and self-confidence.

    “I was just out with my friends, Mama…” Kimmy said meekly, pulling a face at the icky feeling of the heavy, pee-soaked pull-ups squishing against her skin.

    Her mother sniffed the air suspiciously and her eyes flashed. “Have you been drinking, young lady?!”

    “I’m twenty-two, Mama!” Kimmy whined petulantly, looking down at her feet. “I’m allowed to drink!”

    “As long as you’re under my roof, that decision is up to me, Kimmy! You know your bladder can’t cope when you…” She paused, sniffing the air again. “Oh, Kimmy…” she said in a disappointed, threatening tone. “You didn’t…”

    Kimmy’s bottom lip trembled and tears welled up in her eyes as her mother reached out and lifted up the hem of her frock, exposing the faded wetness indicators on the front of her sagging pull-ups.

    “Soaked!” her mother announced, as she inspected the discoloured training pants between her daughter’s legs. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t be drinking, Kimmy! I told you this would happen! Mama is very cross with you, little lady! I’ve been trying my hardest to finally get you potty trained, and you insist on going out of your way to make it as difficult as possible! Maybe you’re not mature enough for college after all…”

    “No!” Kimmy squealed, eyes widening in fear. “Please, Mama! It was just an accident!”

    “Two-year-olds have accidents, Kimmy, not twenty-two-year-olds. Perhaps daycare will suit you better than university…”

    “I’ll be good!” Kimmy said desperately. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Mama! Don’t make me drop out! I can be a big girl, I promise! I even have a date tomorrow with a guy from my class!”

    Her mother said nothing for a few seconds. Then she sighed. “Alright, Kimmy. But you still need to be disciplined. Are you going to be a good girl and accept your punishment?”

    “Yes, Mama!” Kimmy said at once, even though her stomach was twisting uncomfortably at the thought of what her mother likely had in mind.

    “Then come me with, baby.” She took her daughter’s hand and led her to her bedroom. Kimmy’s heart sank as she watched her approach the closet, open the doors, and bend down to reach what Kimmy knew was sitting at the bottom. A moment later she straightened up, holding in her hand one of the enormous, custom-ordered Pampers that she used for her go-to punishment – diaper discipline.

    “Mama, please…” Kimmy whispered, her bright eyes fixed on the huge nappy.

    “Three days in diapers, Kimmy,” her mother said briskly, walking over to the large changing table that still sat in the middle of the bedroom and patting the surface. “Hop up. You know the drill.”

    Her feet felt like they were made of lead, but Kimmy dragged them over to the table obediently and hoisted herself up.

    “Good girl,” her mother said, quickly getting to work stripping off her clothes. “You just lie still and Mama will have that naughty bottom back in nappies in no time!”

    Kimmy covered her face with her hands so she wouldn’t be able to see as her mother ripped off her pissy pull-ups and slid the bulky diaper under her bottom in their place. But she could feel the cool tickle of the baby wipe as the pee was cleaned off her skin, and there was no blocking out her mother’s voice. “There you go, Kimmy,” she said, pulling thick padding up between her legs and taping it into place. “Now you can wet yourself as much as you want, just like a baby. Do you remember the rules?”

    “No toilets,” said Kimmy quietly. “No asking for a change. No touching my diaper.”

    “Good girl.”

    Kimmy took her hands away from her face and swung herself down from the table. Her gait was spread wide; as always, the Pampers felt absurdly thick between her legs – big enough to hold a full day’s worth of a grown woman’s pee.

    “Mama,” Kimmy said hesitantly, “maybe I could just use them for number one, and then when I need to-”

    “You’ll poop in them too, Kimmy,” her mother said firmly. “A full nappy will help you appreciate how immature you acted.”

    Kimmy screwed up her face and tried not to cry. Wetting herself was one thing, but dirtying her diaper always transported her back to those awful days of her childhood when she still had poopy accidents. She wanted more than anything to leave that phase of her life behind forever. “Yes, Mama…” she mumbled.

    “Now, brush teeth and straight to bed young lady!” her mother ordered, delivering a firm smack to her bottom to send her on her way. “No dawdling, or you’ll have a red bottom under your nappy by the time I tuck you in!”


    The full story can be found on Patreon for those who want to read more.

    Oh I totally recommend it. My fiancé is so much better behaved since I had him made incontinent. No more talking back, no more casual sexism. It really is the best way to sort out a man's ego. Just as long as you don't mind changing diapers!

    Yeah, it was super easy. One quick trip to the regression clinic and he was diaper-dependent for life. We had a few fits and tantrums to begin with, of course. The usual stuff; begging for his control back, crying about how I’d ruined his life, waah, waah, waah. But the procedure is completely irreversible, so eventually he had no choice but to accept his diapers. It’s had such a humbling effect on him. After all, it’s hard for a man to think he’s God’s gift to women when he poops his pants three times a day!

    Sure I can give you the address for the clinic! This is your boyfriend, right? He’s cute, but he’s been glaring at me the whole time I’ve been talking. If you ask me, he doesn’t properly appreciate that women are his superiors, and that it’s up to us to decide whether he deserves to keep his potty training or not. Not looking so tough now though, are you sweetie? Hahaha! I have a feeling the next time I see you, you'll have swapped your boxers for something a lot more absorbent!


    Diaper Heist

    The heat in the packed space was getting intense. I glanced at Tim, hoping for some level of support, but he just stared straight ahead.

    “Here’s what I think,” Kayleigh said, her breath warm on my shoulder. “I think you’d be the one eating cake all night. Sitting there in your mom jeans, rubbing your crinkly diapie and thinking about mommy taking you over her knee and smacking that cute little bum of yours until it turned red as an autumn apple. Isn’t that right, baby boy?”

    “No. I mean. I don’t.”

    “You know, I bet if you had a strict mommy she’d make you mess that wittle diaper of yours.” She made a grunting sound and then patted the seat of my diaper. “Fill your pants up nice and full for her. Make you mommy’s wittle stinky bwitches.”

    The elevator doors opened and I rushed into the packed lobby. Kayleigh marched by a second later, shooting me a playful wink. The group that had been in there with us were silent as they walked past, then burst out laughing once they were a few steps away.

    Check out my new, 13,000 word story on Smashwords!

    As always, a hefty sample is available to read for free :)


    I had the pleasure of reading this story already, and I thought it was one of the most fun and original ABDL stories I’ve read in quite a while. I highly recommend you check this one out.


    ...some spanking stories...

    hi friends!

    here’s a list of selected f/m spanking stories taken from various websites. they cover a range of writing styles - as well as styles of spanking.

    hope you enjoy some - or all!

    “welcome home”

    “a clearing of the mind”

    “the book”

    “a teaching moment”

    “secure folders”

    “peter is spanked by his wife and mother”

    “a birthday request”

    “spanking fantasy revealed”

    “discipline at work”

    “a new old mom”

    “still a mom”

    “neighbors - chapter one”

    “spanked by my neighbor”

    “the house rules”

    “megan’s law”


    Yay reading!


    …‘Spankies’ are an integral part of Ageplay (etc), sooo…😁


    You really don’t remember me do you? I used to babysit you when you were like 12. I’m sure it was you because you’re the only boy that age I ever had to... Well you know. You were just very memorable is what I mean. And you were so sweet. I loved babysitting you.

    Ya, I’ve changed a bit. That was almost 10 years ago. You’ve changed as well, you’re very handsome and you filled out nicely. Hopefully everywhere haha.

    Aww, thanks. I know I put on a few pounds, but the guys seem to like it. I’ve never got so much attention till my ass and hips started looking like this. What about you? I bet you must have some hot young girlfriend now right?

    You’ve never had a girlfriend? Wow, I really thought you would get all the girls.  Is it because of your little problem still? Because, you know. Some girls really like a boy like you.

    OK, I get it. You’re shy and you barely remember me. But I remember you clearly. In fact, I’ve spent a lot of time looking for guys like you as an adult. It’s proven harder than I thought.

    No? Still nothing? Fuck it I’ll just say it. Do you still wear diapers? Because I’ve been looking for a submissive boy to move in with me and become my little boy. All because I had a crush on you when we were kids. Do you still have that sweet little soft penis? You know, I used to think all guys had PP’s like you. I was only 3 years older than you. I was going through puberty myself. I didn’t even know what sex was yet. But I used to hump my pillow to the thought of rubbing my pussy back and forth over your soft little cock. Please tell me you still have a small penis?

    You do! Oh sweetie it’s OK. Mommy is here to take care of your little cock. Show it to me. So you still wear diapers at all? Are you a virgin still?

    You’re wearing one now! Do you need to be changed? Can I tell you another secret? I used to take your wet diapers home with me and rub them all over my pussy. Take off your pants. I’m gonna fuck that little dick raw!