anonymous

    What are the rules your daddy makes you follow? Does he make you follow them out in public too?

    Alas, I don't have any sort of strictly enforced rules at the moment. Life has taken the front seat from babbery over the last year or so, so my need for structure and discipline hasn't been getting much attention. That said, I still get a flutter in my tummy when daddy gives me the no-nonsense voice and pulls me away for a diaper change or tells me to clean up my room ^.^

    As to public stuff, nah. The only rules I've ever had that have pushed any sorta public play have been things that are easily hidden, like staying in my diapers (obviously, considering 24/7), having a paci in my pocket at all times, etc.

    Good Morning, Diaper Boy

    I awoke slowly, the groggifying effects of the edibles from last night finally exacting their toll on me. The first thing I noticed, even before my eyes had fully opened, was a slight pain under my shoulder blade. Must’ve slept on the arm wrong. Ah well. A little stretching when I get up and I should be fine.

    Pulling Tibs, my oversized stuffed bear and longtime cuddle-buddy, closer to me, I raised both fists to my eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them. Letting my head droop to the left, I idly looked at and through the mesh netting of the brightly colored bed rail that kept me enclosed in my sleeping area. With bright blue cloth edging covering the rails and see-through mesh netting allowing me a view of my nursery, it kept me safely tucked into my infantile bedding. Blankets, sheets, and pillows covered with either teddy bears or smiling stars, moons, clouds, and suns. A small pile of plushies sat up against the wall of the side opposite the toddler rail

    The cobbled together sleeping area wasn’t quite a crib. Some day, I thought to myself. A common refrain, even moreso lately with the purchase of a house being just over the horizon for daddy and I. Still, it wasn’t so bad to only get halfway to the fantasy. Having the rail to the left and a wall to the right, being enclosed on either side, was close enough to satisfy my babyish needs.

    Besides, it didn’t get in the way of my independent big boy schedule, a night shift on the opposite end of daddy’s daytime working hours. I could still get out and up through the open foot of the bed. In theory the toddler rail could be dropped from the side as well, but a giant fox plushie, Felix, sat on the ground just outside my bed and was thus blocking any such release.

    In fact, he was usually the first thing I saw when I looked out from my “crib” in the morning or when I woke in the middle of the night, his big presence always there to reassure me. I liked to think of it as Felix making sure I was being a good baby and staying in my bed when I went nini. He’s such a big and caring foxy-floof, I thought to myself, letting out a soft, sleepy giggle and reaching under the rail to squeeze the 6-foot tall stuffy’s cheek fuzz.

    After a few moments of droopy-eyed fox-fuzzling I lay back for a bit and tried to wake up a touch more. Squeezing my legs together, I noticed my diaper was a little squishy. Reaching down under the covers and giving the crotch a gentle squeeze, I found that the damage wasn’t too bad. I must’ve only wet once or twice overnight. Some hazy memories, just as misformed and surreal as the dreams I’d woken from, bubbled up to the front of my mind. Briefly waking up, letting my bladder release into the thick and thirsty padding, and snuggling my bear closer before passing back out.

    Did that actually happen? I wondered. I’d woken up like that so many times that there was no way of telling if I was remembering what happened last night or something that happened weeks or months ago. Or if it had all just been a dream. Layered dreams where I’d “wake up” to pee and then suddenly wake up again, this time for real, were strangely common occurrences for me.

    I shrugged the feeling off, barely even registering the timing and circumstances of my wetting as relevant. I was wearing a diaper, so it didn’t really matter anyways, right? And it’s not like I ever had accidents if I went without a diaper.

    May as well just enjoy the pseudo-sleepwetting status while I can. Who knows how long it’ll be until I bedwet without a diaper, too.

    I gave the damp front of my diaper a final affectionate squeeze before rolling over onto my stomach.

    Fishing out my phone from underneath a nearby pillow and setting Tibs aside, I began updating myself on the various sites I frequented. An ABDL forum here, a gaming news thread there. Something happened in another country today, here’s what happened in mine. Oh look! Someone posted a cute diaper picture in the chat today!

    I could spend hours just browsing around various places online and, on days when I didn’t have to work such as this one, I often did. About twenty minutes into this morning’s perusals, I felt the twinge of a subtle tightness in my tummy. It barely even registered to me as I kept reading about someone who had sold their childhood video game collection.

    Fifteen seconds later I pooped myself. There was no motion that triggered it, no outward indication that I was showing myself to be a helpless diaperboy, yet to be potty trained. Even my mind barely noticed the actions my body was taking, the only sign being a soft, vocalized mnf as the soft mush pushed itself out of me in two short waves. Being on my stomach, gravity forced the oozing muck downwards into the crotch and front of my diaper. The mass spread gently, inevitably, and swiftly covered the bottom of my boybits and the lower half of my bottom in a pleasant, glowing warmth.

    Ten seconds after I filled my diaper, still immersed in and reading from my phone, I forgot entirely that I’d done so, in the same way that you might forget that you just coughed, or brushed a stray hair away from your face.

    I spent another twenty minutes poking around online before the thought suddenly occurred to me: Wait, did I poop myself?

    Reaching back to my diaper with a slight wince, shoulder complaining at the motion, I hefted the crinkly seat. Its contents squished comfortingly against my tush and I grinned. I had pooped myself! A bit earlier than I usually did, too. Typically I had time to get up, make coffee, and change my night diaper out for a fresh one. Assuming I’d been wearing a diaper the night previous at all, that is.

    My smile faltered a bit as that thought crossed my mind.

    What would have happened just now if I hadn’t worn a diaper to bed last night?

    I had just emptied my bowels without so much as a conscious realization. Even trying to go without a diaper when such an event was a possibility was definitely not the smartest move, yet here I was spending about half the nights in a given week without a diaper on for nini time.

    I need to air out my diaper area sometimes, I began to rationalize to myself, defending my decisions. And besides, there was that extra half-spoon of fiber I added to my sippy last night before bed. I was probably just more full than usual, so I needed to go earlier than normal. Just take the right amount next time and it shouldn’t be a problem.

    Though these thoughts made sense to me, I still couldn’t help feeling like I should be a bit more worried. My bowels were certainly reliable in their timing, making it easy enough to plan around my messes, but I no longer had much manual control over them, if any. Sometimes, like this morning, I would barely even notice I’d filled my seat. On others I would actively notice my sphincter muscles loosening, relaxing, and letting the warm poop out, regardless of whether I tried to flex and tighten those muscles or not. I tried to remember the last time I’d been able to exercise enough control to empty my bowels by choice in any place but my diapers, but found that I couldn’t recall a single example from recent memory.

    Needless to say, it was basically a requirement that I be diapered throughout the morning. I wasn’t used to needing one for bed though, not since before I tried to re-potty train my bladder and bowels. If events like this one ever became a regular occurrence, I may end up back in full time diapers for good. And the likelihood of maintaining my little remaining bladder control after that…well, it wasn’t a likely prospect.

    A shiver charged with strong emotions worked its way through my body. A strange feeling amalgamated from shame and pleasure. Pride and terror at the potential sign of further “progress” in my diaper training. I wallowed in those mucky emotions for a moment, wiggling my diapered bottom to enjoy the similarly mucky sensation encompassing my tush.

    Soon enough, however, the feeling faded into the background. I spent another 5 minutes idly scrolling and swiping about on my phone until I groaned, finally deciding to get out of bed. Getting up to my hands and knees, I did a practiced backwards crawl and got out of my “crib”, picking up my phone and the sticker-covered baby bottle, a constant companion at home, along the way.

    My hesitations about my declining continence had drifted away just as quickly as they’d come, replaced by a babyish enthusiasm as I toddled my way from my bed to my desk, relishing the feel of the thick, wet, and messy pink diaper between my thighs and grinning wider with every squishy step. Setting my phone and bottle down in their normal places, I reached out to my computer monitors and turned them on.

    As they flickered to life, the image of a speedrunning marathon stream I’d been watching last night suddenly appeared. After taking a moment to check what game was on I turned from my desk, crossing over to my laundry basket and beginning to dig through the clothes within. Feeling more than a little childish and silly, what with the stinky diaper that I’d helplessly filled clinging heavily to my waist, I figured I should put on something appropriate. Maybe just a t-shirt, to leave my mushy pampers on display. 

    My eyes caught on a pastel green shirt and I smiled, lifting it from the pile and spreading it open. Blue text on the minty background declared the wearer a “Daddy’s Boy” in a loopy, childish font. “Daddy’s” up top, near the shirt’s neck, and “Boy” down below, just above the shirt’s hem. An enjoyably detailed cartoon diaper, with a yellow wetness indicator running down the crotch and a cute yellow heart marking the tape panel, was placed between the two words, transforming the shirt’s real meaning into “Daddy’s Diaper Boy”.

    Humiliating. Infantilizing. True. It was perfect.

    I pulled it over my head and let it fall loosely over my chest and waist, leaving only the wet and drooping crotch of my baby pink pampers peeking out from underneath.

    Now properly clothed, my thoughts regressed even further and I began to imagine myself as a space explorer on a mission, preparing to launch into littlespace. I returned to my desk and grabbed the travel mug I used for coffee. It was a sipping-lid one with Pooh Bear adorning the sides, a gift from a good friend. Similar to my “crib”, it wasn’t quite an actual sippy, but the babyish print and sensation while drinking from it was similar enough that I felt justified in calling it a sippy cup.

    Phase 1 complete, Commander Tibs! Baby Blue is awake and dressed! Next phase: coffee!

    I waddled to the door and exited my room, making the short trip down the hall and turning into the kitchen. I made a quick job of washing out my cup and the lid, barely even registering my bladder emptying itself in response to the warm water pouring over my hands. Setting the mug into the coffee machine’s receptacle, I scooped some ground-up dark roast into the awaiting filter, popped it in, and pressed the button to turn the device on. I smiled hazily as it began to buzz, heating up the water stored in an attached tank and readying itself to make my morning coffee.

    Phase 2 initiated! Wakey juice is on the way! Moving on to Phase 3 now, Commander.

    I giggled quietly at my own make-believe silliness as I left the kitchen. Padding back down the hall, a bit further beyond my nursery’s entrance, I stepped into the bathroom this time.

    I didn’t even spare the toilet a glance, instead moving to the sink and quickly washing my hands. After I dried, I shifted focus to the counter and opened two small, joined containers. Deftly plucking my contacts out one by one, I settled them into my eyes with practiced ease.

    Blinking a couple times, my image came into focus in the bathroom mirror. The humiliating shirt, the wet, stinky diaper nestled comfily between my legs, and the decidedly embarrassed expression on my face. As silly as I felt from seeing myself like this, a combination of baby and man, with ragamuffin hair and small, stubbly brown beard-fuzz contrasting sharply with the full diaper and big baby shirt, I also felt right.

    This is how I belong.

    My peepee gave a gentle nudge at the inside of my padding and I grinned once more. It had been a pretty good morning so far.

    I heard the coffee machine start to beep, signalling that its task was now finished.

    Phase 3 complete, Tibs! Now to return for the completion of Phase 2 and we will be good to go, Commander!

    I padded out of the bathroom and back down the hall to the kitchen. Pulling some creamer out of the fridge, I poured a small amount of the pepperminty confection into my mug, followed by a small spoon of sugar. I pushed the lid down onto the cup securely and busied myself with washing off the spoon and the coffee filter. Grabbing my sippy cup and feeling the energizing warmth radiating out into my hand as I did, I waddled back to my room and set the tumbler down on my desk.

    Mission complete, Commander Tibs! Commencing with launch into littlespace!

    Pulling my desk chair out, I was just getting ready to sit down when I felt my stomach churn once more. I froze. At least I noticed it this time, I considered briefly as my body began to work on instinct. I knew that I had only seconds before I filled my diaper again.

    The overwhelming urge to nurse on something quickly came to the forefront of my thoughts. Taking the quick two steps over to my dresser, I plucked my favorite blue pacifier up and clipped it to my shirt before messily stuffing the oversized latex nipple into my mouth.

    I’d barely sucked on my binky twice before a short, low fart burst from my padded tush, immediately followed by a surge of loose and squishy stool. Suckling harder now, eyes glazing over and mind emptying further with each nuk and each fresh wave of mush, I squatted a bit and smiled dumbly as I felt my diaper fill a bit more easily for my effort. The first mess had already crept and crawled up the front, leaving this one to fill my diaper’s seat instead. I was in a simple-minded stinky heaven as the crinkly padding drooped even further.

    Finally I finished and my faculties slowly came back. Well, most of them, at least. Now that I’d filled my diaper even more, the unbearable urge to sit down and squirm around in it had taken over. Still sucking happily on my paci, I waddled back to my chair and plopped down without a second thought. The full seat squished euphorically, the sensation spreading from my butt and crotch to the rest of my diaper area.

    Sitting back for a moment, I luxuriated in the experience. Thick, twice-poopy diapee spreading my thighs. Soft cloth leak-pad protecting my chair and snuggling comfily against my thighs. Pliable, soothing pacifier pleasantly and firmly seated against my tongue as I suck-suck-sucked. Slick drool covering my cheeks and chin. Impossible to feel anything other than simply baby.

    I spent some time like that, just sitting, nursing on my binky, and idly caressing or squeezing my diaper to refresh the naughty, squishy sensation. Eventually I managed to snap out of it a bit, letting my paci fall from my mouth and taking a sip of my wakey juice.

    Well, what now?

    Options ran through my mind. I could keep watching the stream. After all, I’d taken the week off from work to be able to do so. My current state seemed to demand some other activity, however. I drew a second slurp of coffee from my sippy cup.

    Hmmm, maybe some hypno?

    That did sound fun. Sip again, a much longer pull this time as I sat and contemplated, eventually dismissing the idea. Maybe later.

    I could try to be brave and actually go color and play with my toys in the playpen.

    That sounded even more fun! The being brave part was hard though. The combination playroom and diaper-changing room was right across from daddy’s room and I didn’t wanna wake him up…or deal with the embarrassment of being caught playing with toddler toys in a poopy diaper.

    What then?

    I pondered for a minute, during which my stomach rumbled again, seemingly a result of the hot coffee entering my digestive system. It looked like today was going to be one of those days where my morning mess was spread out over several hours of separate, smaller diaper-fillings instead of a single large one. The excess fiber last night seemed to have increased the total mass of my morning messies significantly.

    I reveled in the churning sensation that meant I’d soon fill my pants even further, wishing I could share it with others.

    That’s it!

    I put my hand to my mouse and clicked open a word processor. I felt a heavy pressure at my hole for a short moment, then a release of that pressure followed by a fresh deposit of warm mush spreading across my padded seat. The smelly evacuation was followed by a short burst of urine, further cementing my infantile status for the day and turning my diaper into a gooey mess.

    Dumb smile plastered on my face, I put my fingers to the keyboard and tapped on the appropriate keys. Even just reading the few words that were now displayed on the screen made me wiggle happily in my now-smushier seat.

    Good Morning, Diaper Boy

    Bounce and wiggle all around,

    Just move your body to the sound!

    This feeling that just can’t be beat,

    Come on, now! Get on your feet!

    Flap your arms! Clap your hands!

    Sit back down! Then up we stand!

    Get up and do the baby dance!

    Yeah, get up and do the baby dance!

    The overgrown toddler watched the cartoon monkey singing at him on the screen. Commanding him. He gulped.

    On the one hand, he couldn’t believe he was feeling so nervous because of a simple baby show. On the other, his butt was still sore from not singing along with the Word Party animals yesterday.

    There really wasn’t much of a choice. It was either stand up and do the...ugh, the “baby dance”, or take another trip over daddy’s lap while yesterday’s lesson was still fresh on his mind. He eyed the cold, uncaring lens of the baby monitor in the corner of the room, sulking as it recorded his every move.

    It didn’t matter how dumb he’d feel shaking around like he didn’t know any better ways to dance. It didn’t matter that he was an adult being ordered about by a cartoon character meant for actual toddlers. It didn’t matter that the stupid dance would make his poopy diaper even more of a disaster.

    Daddy’s rule was clear. The baby show tells the baby what to do. And the baby does it.

    He clambered up to his feet, toes sinking gently into the soft playmat’s surface, and began to bounce and shake as he was directed. Flapping and clapping as the burning heat of shame remained steady across his cheeks.

    The worst part wasn’t the embarrassing dance. It wasn’t the spanking he’d get if he disobeyed, or even the gross squish that came with each “Sit back down!”. The worst part was that every so often he’d catch himself absently sucking on the pacifier lodged in his mouth and giggling a bit with every wiggle and hop.

    The worst part was that he was starting to have fun.

    On Untraining

    Hey all! The illustrious @kali-is-an-abdl recently posted an interesting topic to the Incontinence Desires forums that involved a series of questions about the impact 24/7 and untraining has had over the years for people who have gone through those experiences. My answers were extremely relevant to things I’ve discussed in the past on this blog, so I felt it might be worth a cross-post. Consider this my update on the subject for the year ;)

    And hey, if you’re interested in untraining and somehow haven’t heard of Kali’s blog yet, do yourself a favor and check them out!

    If you are wearing 24/7:

  • Under what circumstances did you decide to go into diapers 24/7?
  • I'd decided I would go 24/7 long before I got the opportunity to do so. It's been in my head ever since I was an actual little boy. When I did get the chance, however, it was after my only roommate moved out and I was living alone for the first time. I would've been...22 I think? I wore frequently even before then, roommate was aware and all, but the sudden total freedom of not needing to worry about the expectations of others while at home was by far the biggest impetus to finally pull the trigger.

  • How long have you been in diapers?
  • I'm 33 now, so it's been roughly 11 years with occasional breaks interspersed throughout. A full third of my life in diapers, not even counting the time I spent in them as an actual baby.

  • Do you still own any underwear? If not, how long has it been since you owned underwear?
  • I still have a ratty pair of boxers laying around here somewhere. Hell if I know where though. Pretty sure they're at least 7 years old. I haven't bought new underwear in...I honestly can't remember. I have a couple pairs of cloth training pants that I picked up a few years ago or so, but even those have seen so little use as to essentially still be barely out of the box. Even on the occasions that I've taken breaks, I prefer going commando over any sort of return to grownup underwear 😋

  • Do you use your diapers and the toilet, or do you use your diapers exclusively?
  • This is a bit embarrassing to admit, even on a forum dedicated to losing continence, but...well, I don't ever use the toilet, but I also don't use diapers 100% exclusively. Maybe 99.99~%, but on the rare occasions I take a break or I'm totally soaked and can't be assed to change I'll pee in the bathroom sink 😅 Wipe it down with soap and stuff afterwards, of course, but yeah. Not sure if I just blocked the toilet out as an option so hard when I was trying to untrain my bladder that somehow this ended up being more acceptable, but it is what it is.

  • Since starting 24/7, have you had to make changes or improvements in response to practical pressures you didn't foresee? e.g., switching diaper brands, changing up your wardrobe, etc.?
  • It was all pretty much what I expected. I'd been obsessing over going 24/7 from a young age, so there weren't very many experiences that I hadn't read about online and my own practical experience with diapers was pretty extensive by the time I went for it. I wore the most absorbent disposables I could get my hands on from the very beginning (Dry 24/7s at the time, eventually Comficares, then Little Pawz, and now Megamaxes), so I never really had to go through the dithering phase I often see in 24/7ers and untrainees where they worry about visibility based on brand or needing to refresh their wardrobe due to a change in day-to-day thickness. I sized my wardrobe up once, right when I started, and things have been smooth sailing from that point on.

    The one exception was not anticipating urine smells while at work after a few years into 24/7. I eventually moved into an office job after a series of ones where other smells overpowered any that my diaper may have created. I was noseblind enough by this point that I didn't realize my wet state was very apparent by the end of most days until I heard some coworkers mentioning it when they thought I wasn't around. Learned very quickly to up my water intake and commit harder to wearing plastic pants whenever I went out. Hard lesson, but well learned. No unexpected issues since then, smell-based or otherwise.

  • Are there any circumstances under which you would definitely leave diapers?
  • Zombie apocalypse 😅 But seriously, it would need to be some sort of event along those lines, where needing diapers would end up being a massive, life-threatening liability instead of the "alternative lifestyle" it is now. Otherwise? No. I've gone through enough self-torture over this being a part of my identity. To go back now would be to let those old wounds reopen and I have no intention of letting that happen unless it's an absolute necessity.

    Regarding breaks, a break of about a month every year wasn't uncommon for most of the last decade, though there was a block of 4 or 5 years where I went without a single lull in wearing. The longest break I can recall taking at once was actually the most recent one, 5 months in an attempt to retrain. At no point during any of these breaks did I quit wearing diapers completely. At most I moved from 24/7 to 8/7, but probably closer to 16/7 as a median.

    The closest I get to a hiatus these days is the better part of a day, assuming I've already messed that morning and don't need to go out in public for any reason. Occasionally I'll get a couple hours in bed undiapered when I wake up soaked and am too tired to do much other than get the diaper off and wipe down before passing out again. There's protection on my seating and bedding to ensure any accidents don't result in damage or staining, so I don't feel too worried about it on the rare occasions I do this.

  • Do you think you could easily leave diapers immediately, assuming for some reason you had to?
  • Easily? Probably not. The mental toll alone is probably enough to answer in the negative. Is it within the realm of possibility? I think I could probably manage it with enough effort and time. And by that I mean at least a few years to get back to somewhat normal levels of control, not where I was before starting down this path. I'm not sure that level of control is within my reach any longer.

  • For people who aren't untraining, have you had to deal with unexpected continence loss regardless?
  • I am actively untraining again, but for the first 6 years of 24/7 I wasn't. I never dealt with any unexpected loss in that time, outside of waking up a bit more often at night to pee.

    If you are untraining:

  • How long have you been untraining?
  • About 5 years of dedicated untraining, though I began laying the groundwork even years before that. Being 24/7 for so long, there was a certain amount of convenience to be had in teaching myself to wet while laying down, while walking, while driving, etc., as well as learning to let go automatically and without too much conscious effort while working or deeply involved in something. By the time I decided to work towards incontinence I had already gotten over many of those early hurdles that others often falter at.

    I also spent a good portion of the first half of this year attempting to retrain, so it might be more accurate to say about 4.5 years 😄

  • How is your control right now?
  • It's...a mixed bag. My bowel control was the quickest to go initially and is more or less shot now. Sometimes I still get the churning sensation as a warning before any actual voiding occurs, sometimes I don't. Either way, the second something needs to come out, it comes out. It's like there's a reflex response built into me now that automatically reacts to any fullness down there with the command push. I haven't been able to resist that command in any sense for a couple years now, despite it coming in some fairly uncomfortable and unwanted situations. Believe me, I have tried to get this back under my control and failed in pretty much every measurable way possible.

    For bladder, I mostly have my daytime control back. Before retraining I was at the point where I was beginning to experience checking my diaper and finding it freshly wet with no recollection of having released. The norm was very much me needing to actively exercise control instead of actively needing to let go. I don't think I would've had much further to go to cement things in for good, as apparently happened with my bowel control. Now I'm pretty solidly back in the camp of needing to actively let go to wet, though my capacity to hold it is still pretty severely diminished. I can manage maybe a half hour to an hour of holding it, while before untraining I could've lasted hours without much trouble. I never used to be the guy asking the driver to pull over for a pee break during a road trip, but I would be now if I weren't in diapers.

    Bedwetting is hard for me to gauge. I mostly wake to wet, I think, but there are still mornings I wake up more soaked than I remember having gone. That said, I never progressed much past the point of 2 or 3 wet nights a week while untraining. When retraining, I found that I was able to fairly reliably wake up dry if I went without a diaper, so I suspect that I was never really anything more than "diaper trained" in this regard. Now that I've been back in diapers "for good" for some time, I'm finding that I'm slowly starting to return to that 2-3 nights per week regular, but knowing I was able to get by without diapers has left me questioning whether I'm actually losing any control or not. Especially in contrast to my bowel control where my need for diapers is as clear-cut as can be.

  • If you haven't yet reached your untraining goals, what are they?
  • I don't even know what my untraining goals are anymore 😅 I started out wanting full bladder and bowel incontinence. I apparently achieved the latter and now only the former remains, so I guess I still need to work on that? Honestly though, I'm not sweating it. I'll do what I can to make sure I have the opportunity to work at losing bladder control if I want to. Staying hydrated, changing enough that I don't need to worry too hard about leaks, etc. Whether or not I do is more of a moment-to-moment decision though.

    I often find myself practicing reverse kegels or staying relaxed after a wetting, so I guess the inclination is still there, at least to some degree, but I'm much more in the "if it happens, it happens" camp nowadays. I already need diapers for messing, so how much does it really matter if I end up needing them for wetting as well?

  • Did you have any continence issues before you started untraining? If so, do you think they were a factor in your decision?
  • Not sure if it qualifies as continence-related, but I've had issues with chronic constipation over the years, including a couple hospitalization events. It definitely played a part in me choosing this path, but not as big as the other factors, I feel. Incontinence for me has always been more about getting closer to my mental self-image than anything else. I wouldn't be surprised if the fact that I had bowel issues contributed to my bowel control eroding more quickly than my bladder, however.

  • If your control now is definitely worse than it was when you started untraining, how does that feel? For example, if you never had bedwetting or fear wetting or messing accidents before and you have them now, how do you feel, or how have you felt, about it?
  • Oh gosh, now this is a question. I don't regret moving away from how I was when I was fully continent. At war with myself. Stuck between my desires for incontinence and my other aspirations in life that might be hindered by such a condition. That was no way to live, so I'm glad that I eventually picked a side and committed.

    I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any self-loathing for reaching the point I'm at now though. I hated myself for quite a while once the realities of bowel incontinence set in. Fought against it, tried retraining, and dealt with depression and anxiety severe enough I had to see someone regularly for help with it. I've come to terms with it for the most part, but it was a long and laborious process getting to this point.

    Nowadays, however, I feel pretty great about things! The voice in the back of my head, the one always pushing me towards untraining and making me feel awkward in my own body simply for having control, is finally quiet. I keep waiting for it to pick back up and urge me towards bladder incontinence as well, but surprisingly it hasn't. Maybe it's gone for good? Either way, it's been a relief unlike any other I've experienced. Like I can finally think clearly, as myself and not the person I was pretending to be while continent. No more fretting over my control or lamenting the life I could have led or "should have" led. I think this is that mysterious "self-acceptance" thing everyone is always going on about 😋

  • Do you want to regain lost continence? Have you tried to regain lost continence? How did it go?
  • I feel I've already answered the last two questions in this one with my answers above. Do I still want to regain control though? Not really, no. Maybe it's a bit of a sunken cost way of viewing things, but I've gone through so much to get to this point. I've come to terms not only with what I've done to myself, but who I am as a person and what it means to live your best life. Do I perhaps envy those with control a bit more now than I used to? Sure. But that envy isn't enough for me to give up the thing that's brought me to this state of inner peace.

  • Is your incontinence in your medical records? If you're comfortable sharing, how is it described?
  • I think bedwetting may be on my records after an overnight stay in the ER a long while back, but otherwise no. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  • Do you think that if you tried, you would be able to leave diapers over any timescale?
  • Somewhat already answered above, but yes. Maybe. Honestly I'd need to try in order to know for sure and I don't really foresee myself trying again anytime soon. That 5 months retraining wasn't exactly a fun time and showed that I'd need a good while longer to get back what I've lost. Not exactly an appealing thought.

    Untraining and Goals

    This is another post lifted from another site. I’m cross-posting this time more out of curiosity than to provide advice. It was prompted by a post from another prolific untrainer on the subject of accepting that incontinence has been achieved. It read:

    “Yeah it took me a while to realize that incontinence is not binary.   I think sometimes we get into the mindset that incontinence is a trophy that is awarded to you when you reach a certain threshold.“

    And it’s correct, at least to my eyes. Those of us that want to untrain, have untrained, or are in the process of untraining often seem to have fixations on one thing: Achieving total, complete loss of bladder and/or bowel control.

    I’ve personally come to realize, in particular over the last year, that this wasnt actually my goal. I’m cross-posting because I’d love to hear from any other untrainers about their feelings on the subject. What’s your trophy? What’s your real end goal and what are your motivations behind it?

    I think sometimes we get into the mindset that incontinence is a trophy that is awarded to you when you reach a certain threshold.  

    I really like this line and agree with it. I can only speak from personal experience, but for myself and I'm guessing a good amount of us in general, I think that threshold trophy isn't necessarily incontinence. It's achieving diaper dependence. My moment of clarity wasn't realizing I was incontinent. It was realizing that I needed to rely on my diapers from now on, rather than wearing them by any sort of choice.

    Incontinence is more of an intermediary or a metric through which we define our emerging dependence. Important to the process, but more of a vehicle. The thing that gets us to the thing, if you will.

    Behaviorally-acquired incontinence (to borrow a term from Kali) is a symptom of decreased muscular strength due to practiced relaxation, as well as a conscious effort to retrain our response to and eventually ignore the urge signals from the bladder and bowels, allowing the body to empty of its own accord. Recognizing these changes could potentially be called the primary mileposts of the untraining process. Acclimate to small, frequent wettings, acquire symptoms of OAB with small spurts when lifting, laughing, or coughing, maybe followed by bedwetting, followed by full daytime accidents, etc. They're all incontinence, varying levels of loss of control, but if you look at it solely from that perspective it never quite feels like you're done until you have no control left at all. That's an even longer road, one that's often full of disappointment and anxiety over progress.

    It's why I've come to prefer to think of the real goal as externalizing my mental dependence on diapers. Translating it into a physical dependence. For me I think it's mostly a self-image thing. Never felt right being continent and always felt more at home in diapers, no matter the situation. My body didn't fit the way my mind felt, so I tried to fix it.

    I'm sure others feel different though. Maybe they want to better suit their role as a baby in their CG/L lifestyle dynamic, or to feel less shame over their choices to live a diaper-oriented lifestyle, or to self-actualize their internal self-image, or maybe they just get really turned on by the idea. Or any number of other reasons.

    But the end result is the same. We want to need diapers. Need to need them. So once we reach that point where we realize that we finally do need them, it's...man, I don't even have the words for the experience. I wasn't particularly thrilled on a practical level with my actions by the time I'd achieved true dependence, but the fact that the voice inside that had been nagging me my entire life to untrain, to find a way to physically need diapers, had finally gone quiet...It felt like achieving self-acceptance in a single, definitive moment. Like finally getting to scratch an annoying itch you've gone your entire life unable to reach.

    That was the real trophy for me, but maybe that's not the case for others. Any of you have other feelings on the subject?

    Early Breakfast

    My stomach gurgled and the overwhelming sensation of movement deep inside my body swiftly drew my full attention. I made a mental plea as my eyes ran across the crowd of people I was walking through with daddy. Oh god, not here! Please not here!

    The internal churning intensified, as if to say, “Yes, here. Not just here, but also now.”

    A whimper escaped my throat. It had been several months now since I’d been diagnosed with full urinary and fecal incontinence, a result of years of diaper training from daddy, but I still had some minor control left over my bowels and hadn’t yet needed to worry about pooping while out. A regular diet and some well-ingrained habituation made things easy. On a typical day I would helplessly fill my diaper soon after I woke up and daddy would change me before we had to leave the house.

    This morning had been different. Daddy woke me from my crib an hour earlier than I usually got up, getting me dressed and ready to go out for breakfast at a diner we liked. Ostensibly to spend some time with me before he had to set out for a business trip later that day, but I now knew otherwise. It was definitely a “daddy” sort of move to put me into a humiliating situation I couldn’t escape from.

    I clutched tighter to my partner’s hand, falling behind him a bit as my waddling gait slowed. I was trying desperately to hold it all in. My hole clenched unsteadily, no longer used to being exercised in this sort of way, especially not for this long. It hadn’t had to hold anything in like this for almost a year, but somehow it managed to do its job. For now. The immediate pressure had mercifully relented, but I could already feel it gradually beginning to build back up.

    “Earth to kiddo,” my attention snapped up to see daddy looking back at me as he continued tugging me along by the hand, “Everything okay there, sport?”

    “Yeah daddy, everything’s fine,” I responded quietly, making especially sure to keep the word daddy at a whisper. I’m not allowed to call him anything else anymore, despite the fact that we’re married. Not even in public. Work and family were the only exceptions and I’m pretty sure he’d enforce it there as well if he thought we could get away with it. He often seemed to take sadistic pleasure in making me speak up when addressing him where others could hear, but this time, mercifully, he let it slide.

    “Well move that diapered butt, then! We’re almost to the diner, just another block.” He pulled at my hand to bring me up next to him once more. I felt my cheeks grow warm at the loud, casual mention of my padded state. Warm turned to hot as I noticed several nearby people smirking, looking me over and making the simple connection between daddy’s words, my toddling steps, and my puffy shorts.

    It didn’t take more than ten steps for my bowels to cry out in need once more, a fresh wave of urgency swelling over my senses. My weak, practically useless sphincter strained with effort as I put everything I had into flexing and tightening it. If I could just get to the bathroom at the diner...

    Attention diverted, I’d begun to fall behind yet again, finally shuffling off near a building and coming to a complete stop. This time daddy slowed with my pace and stopped as well. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he just watched me with a self-satisfied grin and gently squeezed my hand to reassure me. He knew what was wrong and was clearly settling in to enjoy the show.

    Despite some grumbles and dirty looks, people began to flow around us without too much trouble. I closed my eyes, trying to block out all the faces and footsteps so I could concentrate on keeping my diaper clean. I could feel the mushy mess trying to push its way out, stretching my quivering rear exit to the brink of its limits. Every second that passed only made it more difficult to stop. If only we could get to the diner…

    No, I realized. There was no way I’d make it another step, let alone another block. That ship had sailed. A squirm wiggled its way through my body at that thought, my cock twitching a bit. Another thought followed, more regressed and more excited. Thrilling and terrifying. I’m gonna poop my diaper!

    Suddenly I felt myself stumbling forward, dragged that direction by daddy’s strong grip on my palm. My eyes snapped open and I barely managed to catch myself against his chest, regaining my balance. The damage had been done, however. The moment I’d been tugged forward and my concentration wavered, my sphincter gratefully took the opportunity to relax and let a warm, soft mess begin to ooze out. By the time I hit daddy’s chest I was already filling my diaper.

    I stood there, dumbfounded and shocked as several waves of poop slowly crept out into my waiting padding with each shuddering breath I took. Overwhelming relief had begun coating and dulling my mind while I emptied, leaving me motionless and thoughtless. I could feel my loose exercise shorts begin to tighten in the back, then noticeably droop as my diaper expanded with the accident. The seat of the thick and crinkly undergarment quickly became packed, leaving further mushy mud nowhere else to go but forward. Before I could barely even register the experience, my dry diaper had become messy from back to front.

    I knew what to expect as the final wave pushed out. I exhaled in relief as a stream of urine poured out of me. As if I needed reminding that, even if I hadn’t just completely and thoroughly shit myself in public, I still needed my diapers for my helpless pantswetting problem. Usually my pees these days came in the form of short, sudden gushes or dribbles, but this time, by the act of some vengeful diaper god, it was a flood. I felt the soft interior of the diaper warm and swell, straining my shorts even further. I could sense the hot liquid beginning to pool at the point where my poop had pushed forward to and audibly whimpered. I’d just gone from zero to bursting in 15 seconds.

    I stared directly into daddy’s shirt as these events unfolded, occasionally casting a furtive glance to either side and occasionally up at him. The passers-by seemed to be mostly unaware, but I caught at least one lady staring at me in horror as she hurried past. Daddy, on the other hand, had the biggest grin imaginable plastered over his face. He knew exactly what was happening and he had no problem showing that he approved of it.

    Finally, mercifully, my accident was complete. My bladder’s heavy stream had slowed to a trickle and I hoped against hope that the diaper had simply absorbed everything instead of letting the contents blend into a foul mixture. I shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other and squeezed my thighs together against the now-squishy padding. My hopes were dashed when the squeeze caused a slushy plaster of piddle and poop to rapidly redistribute from the center of my diaper to the rear and front. I visibly winced from the sensation.

    A hand was placed on my head, ruffling my hair affectionately, and I looked up to see daddy still grinning from ear to ear. “Good boy,” he praised, Good baby.”

    I managed a weak smile in response. In many ways, both my big and little selves felt proud for being good and using my diaper, for making my daddy happy, but all of the very adult shame and humiliation from doing the horrific deed out here, for all the world to see, occupied a much larger part of my brain.

    “You know what to do now,” daddy continued, “Tell daddy what you did.” A man gave daddy the What the fuck? side-eye as he shuffled around us.

    “Here?” I whined, my stomach dropping for the second time that morning. He couldn’t really expect me to say it right here on the sidewalk. Not after what I’d just been through. What I’d just done.

    “Here. Now.”

    “Daddy, I can’t,” I whispered.

    “Yes kiddo, you can. And if you want to be changed before we sit down for breakfast, you will.”

    I stared up at him in terror, my jaw dropping. This was only supposed to be for play at home! With so many people around, there’s no way nobody would hear me say it. Maybe they would think it was just a joke?

    The strong, pungent odor of my soaked, poopy diaper finally reached me and I wrinkled my nose unhappily. No, someone would have to brain dead to not put two and two together. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes and my peepee began to swell once more, both reactions a testament to the internal struggle this situation was causing in me. I was stuck. If I wanted out of this mucky diaper anytime soon, I had no choice. I loved it.

    Screwing my eyes shut tight, I whispered, “I did poopoos in my diapy, daddy.”

    “I’m sorry, kiddo, I couldn’t quite hear you.”

    My eyes opened once more and I pouted, my best puppy dog expression pleading with daddy to let that be the end of this horrible experience. He only raised his eyebrows expectantly in response. My dicky stiffened further and I mentally shuddered as it pushed down into the diaper’s squishy muck.

    Taking a deep breath, I looked up at daddy and said as loudly as I dared, “I did poopoos in my diapy, daddy!”

    While I hadn’t exactly shouted it, it definitely caught some attention. Nearly every person in the immediate vicinity turned to look at us. Some shook their heads and just moved on. Some stared, sneered, or outright laughed before continuing on their way as well. A couple spat out expletives or insults. Things I knew would come back to haunt me when I remembered this experience.

    “Oh god, gross.”

    “That guy just shit himself.”

    “What the fuck, eeeeeew.”

    Almost worse were the people that gave me a once-over and then looked at daddy with pity, perhaps giving a nod or a sympathetic smile. Assuming I didn’t have all my mental faculties, that daddy was my caretaker. More than anything else that had happened in the last several minutes, those looks made me feel like a helpless toddler. A baby who had just had an accident in his diaper.

    “Good boy!” Daddy cooed, ruffling my hair again before fishing in his jacket pocket for a moment. He soon produced a pacifier with a powder blue guard and adult-sized nipple. It was my favorite one. Seeing it here almost felt like a betrayal by the object that gave me so much comfort at home. Daddy pressed it against my lips and I instinctively opened up, letting the latex nipple fill my mouth without protest. I suckled obediently and miserably on the infantile item, remaining silent. Stewing in the final moments of this terrible, wonderful experience.

    “Come on, tiger. There’s a disabled toilet at the diner we can change that diaper in. Not much further!” And with that his hand was tugging mine once more, forcing me to waddle along behind him. My legs were spread wide in that unmistakable dirty-diaper toddle, each step causing the contents of my padding to squish all over within. Each step reinforcing that I could no longer control myself. That I’d let myself be trained into this helpless state. That this was very likely just the first of many public incidents. That I now needed diapers.

    I had never felt so humiliated. I had never felt so small and helpless.

    I had never felt so happy.

    Boo!

    Well, here I am, crawling back to this site nearly a year to the day after I left. I meant what I said in my goodbye post, but the keen-eyed and shrewd may have noticed that none of my posts ever ended up going down and my blog was never deleted.

    I obviously had some trouble letting go. Not so much that I ever bothered to get things back up and running, admittedly, but I did pop in once every month or so to see how all the ABDL stuff was going on the site. I figured that’s as far as I was ever going to take my participation. Never answered any messages or asks, never liked or reblogged anything, never engaged.

    But then I wrote up that guide on 24/7 in the office, a bit of advice for someone in a thread on another site. Writing that guide rekindled what I really loved about operating this blog, which was answering questions and helping out where I could.

    So, again, here I am. A bit ashamed for going back on my own commitment, but also happier for admitting to myself that operating this blog helps me feel better as a person. Like I add some value to this fetish on a scale that extends outside of myself, rather than just consuming. I can’t say I’d fault anyone for rolling their eyes in a complete lack of surprise :p

    I’ll try to head off a few questions below that might pop up as a result of this post, but feel free to let me know if you have any that I don’t cover.

    Q: Will you still be posting photos?

    A: No. Photos were a big part of the reason I left in the first place. I no longer find much pleasure in taking them and I’ve never particularly cared for looking at them either. I’ve come to really despise superficiality as a personality trait in both myself and others, and it can be found in spades and spades among the community of ABDLs that regularly post photos. Not to say that everyone who posts photos is shallow, just that I’ve somewhat come to expect it (and can be pleasantly surprised when things turn out otherwise).

    It’s possible a picture or two may pop up going forward, but generally I’d prefer to keep this blog to text posts only from here on out.

    Q: Will you still be posting stories?

    A: Yes! A big part of the reason I missed this place was that it was a fun and casual space to share my ABDL writing in. I wasn’t ever really able to find a good replacement in my time away, so I’m glad to have this place to get my kinky fantasy scenarios out with ease.

    Q: Are you still untraining/what’s your progress?

    A: The answer to that is a bit of a tangled knot at the moment. I made my best attempt at retraining after I said goodbye to Tumblr last year and I made some pretty damn good progress with regaining my bladder control. I no longer bedwet with any consistency (I had long felt that I was only ever “diaper-trained” at bedwetting anyways, as every time I slept unpadded I never had an accident. These results only confirmed that to me). My daytime bladder control has returned to being relatively voluntary, though I’m still more comfortable wearing diapers instead of underwear anywhere that a restroom might not be easily accessible.

    Despite all that progress, however...I reluctantly still consider myself diaper dependent. If it’s not bladder, well, you probably guessed it...I apparently achieved an irretrievable loss of bowel control. At this point I’ve had unwitting or unwilling accidents in public, around family, around my partner, and pretty much everywhere else I might be found. If I’m incredibly careful and manage my food and fluid intake meticulously I can still get away without wearing diapers during a day. Those days are extremely few and far between, but they do happen. Usually only when I have a crazy bad diaper rash from staying in a messy diaper for 24+ hours >///> A squirmy, squish-obsessed diaper boy has needs, y’know?

    Q: Are you planning to be as active as you were before you left?

    A: Honestly that mostly depends on you! With this blog only getting used for text posts now, my only impetus to update will be when I have a story to post, a guide or general subject I want to explore, or an ask popping up in my inbox. The first two are subject to my motivation to write, what I’m exploring at that time with ABDL, my overall mood, etc. The last one is entirely dependent on others writing in, however, so it may be a lot or it might be almost never. I’m comfy with either ^.^

    Alright then, that should do it. It’s good to be back and I hope it’s a return that’s welcome for any of y’all reading ❤️ Cheers!

    24/7 in the Office

    I recently wrote out a small guide on managing the wear and use of diapers at work in answer to a question on another site. I thought that some of you crinklebutts interested in or already invested in making diapers a part of your lifestyle might find some use out of it.

    Just for some additional context in how I framed some of my advice, the asker is a younger woman with a good amount of experience wearing pull-ups in her day-to-day, but who’s somewhat new to diapers.

    Hope this helps some others and I’d be happy to field any other questions y’all might have, whether they’re related to this or not :3

    I haven't been in-office for some years now, even previous to the 'vid, but I've spent a good 8+ years wearing to work in various environments. I'll try to go down everything I know, but it's been a while so I may forget some stuff.

    1. Absorbency

    You have two options here. You can either go thick enough that you won't need a change through the day while accommodating for the extra bulk, or thin enough to keep the change in your silhouette minimal and change once or twice in a shift. You might have your own criteria for which you decide on, but for me the biggest was what sort of changing facilities I had available. Others might be your actual urine output during work, concealment, how active your job is, etc.

    I only had public/group restrooms available and I didn't want to risk the sounds of a diaper change becoming a normal occurrence that got tied to me being in the bathroom, so I went with bulkier route. Since you're in an office environment and you have the option of wearing skirts/dresses you could probably get away with this fairly easily, but with single-occupancy restrooms it isn't necessarily something you have to do. Just for context, my daily driver was a 24/7 or Comficare (eventually Megamax when they released) and an Abri-Let Maxi stuffer. This would hold up through a day's use, even while drinking 2-3 liters of water through a shift.

    I'm less experienced with the thinner side of things, unfortunately, so I won't go in too hard on it. I will say that with thinner diapers you're trading most of the negative aspects of thicker ones (awkward bulges, gait-change, silhouette change, irritation/smells) away to gain what's probably the most important aspect of 24/7 in the workplace: discretion. That said, you're also trading out the one huge positive aspect (not needing to worry about changing in public every day) for a negative; the risk of arousing suspicion with daily changes, a diaper bag, worrying about disposal, etc. I think that thinner diapers are overall a net positive when you can change without risk of anyone hearing or seeing anything, but you may feel differently if you have other things that you want to prioritize.

    2. Outer Clothing/Appearance

    Dark colors are your friend for any bottoms that you wear. Not only will they disguise any potential leaks, but dark colors also smooth out the body's profile a bit to minimize the visibility of a diaper bulge. I switched to black jeans exclusively when I started wearing to work and the benefit was pretty big, especially for my self-confidence. Also, if you aren't required to tuck in your shirt at the office or you can wear anything else that'll hang loose over the waistband (hoodie, blazer, etc.), that'll have the same smoothing effect.

    Pants are easy with thinner diapers unless you're looking to wear skinny jeans, hip-huggers, or something along those lines. You may still want to go up one waist size, but honestly with anything that has a looser cut you should be fine. You mentioned that you get a diaper bump under your pants currently, which is a pretty sure indicator that you may want to at least try on a size up to compare. In the end you want 'em loose enough to prevent any visible bulge, but tight enough that you're not swimming in them.

    That's assuming any bulge really is visible. You know yourself best of course, and apologies if I'm out of line on this, but if your only experience so far is with Assurance diapers it sounds like you may be a bit new to wearing in public or in general. I'm sure you've read this a million times already, but 99% of people won't notice a minor change in the shape of your pants unless they have a reason to be paying close attention on the daily. To reference Adams, diaper bulges are a bit of an SEP field (Somebody Else's Problem), where anything that isn't directly relevant to that person isn't worth paying any mind to. Even if people do notice, it's extremely unlikely they'll say anything to your face. The common and natural assumption is that a medical issue necessitates the diapers, not a fetish. The one time in my career I've accidentally overheard my diapers being mentioned, that's exactly what happened. I also learned to be much more discrete after that incident lol, which I'll get into next.

    Just a quick note on thicker diapers, as they're a bit of a different story. If you end up deciding to give the bulkier route a shot at some point, you absolutely want to go a couple sizes up with your pants. The diaper will fill out the looseness in the crotch for the most part, but they're gonna be loose as heck on the legs most likely. Not exactly super fashionable or anything, but that's kinda the crinklebutt life x.x As a woman you also get the much more discretion-appealing choice of going with a skirt or a dress. They're sooo much easier to disguise a diaper bulge under without having to sacrifice much style.

    My final point is on how you walk. If you go with any somewhat thicker diaper, it's likely to alter your gait. This is something that you kinda just have to get used to. I forced my old gait for a long time and that eventually developed into a mid-point where I did have a bit of a toddle, but it was masked by a bit of a swagger in my step. That's what I'd advise (trying to stick to the way you walked before going back into diapers, that is), as it doesn't present anything immediately noticeable by others and allows you to transition slow and steady, but it is a process. I've also heard others say that they acclimated best by simply leaning into the new gait, as it allowed them to acclimate to the new norm more quickly, and I honestly can't argue with that except to say that it may be more likely to draw a question or two. Again though, SEP field. Most people won't ask.

    3. Inner-Clothing/Diaper-Sign Minimization

    a. Plain-colored crotch-snap onesies. The bodysuit type, not the footy pajama/sleeper type. I can't say if this is more guy-oriented or not, as I don't know if gals wearing an undershirt is something that would get noticed as out of the ordinary, but I can say that onesies are easily the most useful tool that you have at your disposal for diaper discretion. First, the obvious: they hide the diaper's waistband peekage. If you ever need to bend over or crouch down at work, a onesie will be there to make sure your diaper isn't announcing itself to the world above your waistband. They also support and compress your diaper, which is an immense boon since the diaper's bulk and weight will steadily be increasing over the day. You want to keep the diaper from sagging so that leaks from the leak-guards not holding tight to your thighs are less likely. You want it to be compressed to minimize any crinkling and visible bulge. The capstone is that an additional, enclosed layer of clothing underneath your outerwear will help to contain any smells. Not a lot in a onesie's case, mind you, which leads me to...

    b. Plastic Pants. I noticed this was brought up elsewhere in the thread and promptly shot down because plastic pants over disposables don't actually do much to stop normal leaks that occur with heavy wetting, which is true. The thing is, they prevent a different kind of leak. If you're wearing a onesie that covers your entire diaper (as they generally should to provide full and even support across the diaper's crotch), the onesie's inner leg bands often dig right up against and under the diaper's leg cuffs. This can cause the onesie to get wet around the inner legs, which will slowly spread across the crotch of the fabric. Plastic pants fix this problem by creating a barrier between the diaper and the onesie that the leg-bands can't dig into. Other alternatives for this issue would be a short-legged romper instead of a onesie (I honestly find these more comfy than onesies anyways), or any boxer-brief styled sort of underwear that holds tight to the diaper and extends beneath the area a onesie will cover, such as compression shorts.

    I feel plastic pants are better than the alternatives for a few reasons, however. First, they're waterproof, which is always a plus when you need something that goes directly over a diaper. Second, while they won't stop significant leaks, they will prevent minor leaks such as the common press-out leak that happens when sitting down immediately after wetting. Third, odor protection. Because plastic pants should be relatively air-tight, it's really difficult for odors to escape at a strong enough level to be noticed. Most non-store brand diapers have very good odor lock/protection already, so it's more like just having extra insurance against uncomfortable smells. I've found that when I have the full combo of onesie + plastic pants + thicker-fabric outerwear I can often get away without notice even with the occasional messy accident in public, so long as I don't need to linger in one area for too long.

    You can also get lined plastic pants that have a layer of terry-cloth sewn into the inside of the pant, but they usually increase bulk significantly, so they're not always the best choice when discretion is key.

    c. Powder/Rash Cream/Deodorant/Perfume/Cologne. Probably goes without saying, but if you already have another noticeable scent, it helps disguise any others that might be coming off of you. You obviously don't want it to be too powerful, but it does provide tangible benefit in the right amounts. Powder and rash cream have the obvious add of helping to prevent rash and keeping your skin healthy, which when mixed with scented deodorant or perfume/cologne will go a long ways towards creating a normal scent for you that isn't so obviously babyish or diaper-related. I mostly just went with powder and one of those woodsy smelling Old Spice deodorants, but everyone has their preferences.

    d. Water. Drink it :p This is a bit of a hard balance to maintain, but it's worthwhile to do so. The more you drink, the less acrid your pee will be. Problem is, the more you drink, the more you're likely going to need to change (more often). I found 2-3 liters was the right sweet-spot for me, leaving me with a soaked diaper that barely smelled at all by the end of the day, but the amount's probably going to be a bit different for everyone. This was the one that got me noticed at work ("There's definitely a smell of ammonia..."), so my discretion improved dramatically once I figured it out.

    As a sub-tip to this section, it also helps to wet often and in small amounts. Flooding a diaper will use up much more of its absorbency than gradually leaking into one, as well as risking a leak from wetting faster than the diaper can absorb. So, even if you have a full bladder that's aching to release, you want to try to regulate the flow a bit and make sure you're not overwhelming what it's able to take.

    e. Shave your diaper area if you don't already. It's kind of absurd how well hair retains scents that it sits in. Having it down there will significantly reduce the effectiveness of odor-elimination when cleaning up with wipes during a change. It might suck if you're really attached to the idea of having some hair down there, but it really is worth it.

    4. Changing/Disposal

    This is probably my weakest area knowledge-wise since I set myself up to get through a shift without changing, but I'll say what I've managed to pull from my sporadic, often frantic, changing experiences. You're already light-years ahead by having somewhere private you can change, so I won't bother going into how to change discretely in a group restroom (hint: it either takes a lot of patience while waiting for people to leave, or coming to terms with the fact that someone will hear you ripping tapes, the new diaper crinkling, fiddling with your bag, etc. -_-).

    So, that aside, you're going to need a diaper bag. As a woman you can probably get away pretty easily with a larger-sized purse, but other good options I've found are messenger bags, laptop bags, a plain ol' backpack, or a duffel ("Yeah, it holds some of my work supplies and I like to stop by the gym on my way home"). Try to keep some normal work stuff like a notebook, snacks, an actual laptop or tablet, etc. in one part of the bag so that you can pass it off as being your go-bag for work and explain why you bring it in with you. Of course, keep this stuff separate from anything that smells, be it powder or a used diaper.

    For disposal, I'd highly recommend looking into scented diaper disposal bags. I found out about these in the latter half of my in-office time and they were a game changer for changing in public. Before that I'd either toss a diaper directly into a receptacle (the "paper towels over top to hide it" tactic does indeed work well for this), where it could potentially be discovered at any time. Or, even worse in my mind, make the place smell bad for others. Alternatively I'd stuff it into my diaper bag for later disposal, causing the bag to steadily accumulate an odor.

    Scented bags eliminate both problems for the most part. They eliminate smell pretty completely, so you can feel a lot safer just dropping it into the bin when you're done changing. There's still some risk of discovery, I suppose, but not many people out there are brave enough to garbage-dive to find out the contents of an opaque bag inside a bathroom trashcan. And if you decide to pack the diaper home to dispose of, your diaper bag won't give off that wet-diaper smell unless someone's full-on shoving their nose inside it. Plastic grocery bags are a good practical alternative for this, but scented bags really are just that much better for the purpose of disguising elimination odor.

    5. Confidence

    This probably goes without saying, but attitude is everything. If you act scared and paranoid, other people are going to look for a reason why. Be confident in the change you've made in your wardrobe, even if it's just a change in the type of undergarment you wear and not all the rest of the stuff mentioned above. I'm not saying you need to act overconfident or change your demeanor or anything, just try to be your regular ol' self. If you talk a lot with coworkers, keep doing that. If you keep to yourself, don't feel obligated to get out of your comfort zone. Eventually, once you've done everything that you normally do at work a few times while diapered, it'll seem like nothing's changed at all. Because, outwardly at least, nothing really has.

    If you do end up fielding a question, don't feel bad for saying that you wear "protection" for need. Medical need, even, if you don't mind telling a lie. If you really want to obfuscate, it's perfectly fine to break out the, "It's none of your business", or, "Sorry, that's a private matter and I don't really like to discuss it."

    It’s Been Real

    Hey everyone. I’ve been holding off on making this post just in case I was in a bit of a lull, but after a good 6 months of feeling this way I think it’s finally time. I guess you could call this my “going away” post. I’ll be deleting this account pretty soon and don’t have any concrete plans to return.

    I could say that it’s out of concern for my real life, to keep my future prospects open and unhindered. Or maybe because I’m trying to live a more offline life as I get into my 30s; make some new friends and branch out as I get older, y’know? Or perhaps because I’m tired of putting myself out there on social media, baring my soul for the world to see. While these are all true, the real driving force is that I’ve simply gotten bored of ABDL.

    I know, I know. Pretty dull reason, haha, but it’s true. And really, when you think about it, it makes sense. I’ve more or less seen and done everything that I’ve wanted to do with this fetish. Got all the achievements, hit all the high notes, and lived through all of the experiences. I mean, just consider the following:

    Found a husband whom I love dearly, who enhances my world in every way and accepts me for who I am. ✔️

    Diapered 24/7 for nearly a decade. ✔️

    Achieved bedwetting and reached the brink of incontinence. ✔️

    Lived a toddler life, with bottles, bedrails, bibs, pacis, and all the rest of the trappings (still never got a crib or highchair though ;~;). ✔️

    Become a bit of a known figure across multiple platforms, with followings in the thousands for m/m ABDL content. Wrote stories, took pictures, filmed videos, provided advice to those who asked, created guides, recorded hypnotic audio files, and even drew a picture or two. ✔️

    Explored extreme submission and soft TPE dynamics with my partner and friends online. ✔️

    Essentially lived out more than a few different ABDL story tropes. ✔️

    Explored a sissy side that I had repressed for the better part of my adult life. ✔️

    Met tons of amazing people along the way, not the least of which being my daddy, Bits, my babysitter/devil on my shoulder, Kaz, and my oldest friend, Ash. ✔️

    That’s a list I feel I can be proud of. Over my time as an ABDL I’ve always felt like I was chasing the next big goal. First it was just acquiring diapers, then it was wearing them 24/7, followed by living a bab life with my SO, and finally it was the long road to incontinence.

    Now, though? Now, for once, I finally feel content with this side of myself. Like I’ve got nothing left to do and nothing left to prove to myself. I can just enjoy ABDL stuff on my own time as much or as little as I’d like. No strings, no big commitments.

    Right now I can’t say that I want it very much, either XD That feeling of accomplishment, checking off all the things I wanted to do, has left me with little interest in doing much more than clearing desires out with the occasional diaper or sticky. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure my desire will cycle back up in time (I highly doubt this will be the last time I’m 24/7), but for now there’s very little interest at all. Even if the desire does come back hard and I dive back into play, I’ve been wanting to leave the online sphere for a looong while.

    While I won’t claim to be old just yet, early-30′s and all, I’m also not young anymore. And I’m finding that all of the attention and pushing and hustling just to get noticed is really a younger person’s game. One that I increasingly fail to see the point in pursuing.

    While it can definitely be a rush, not to mention one of the best self-confidence boosters in existence, it just takes too much energy and care to nurture, for what ends up being very little payoff. Besides, I don’t really seem to have much energy for ABDL in general any longer. Better for me to bow out gracefully now, rather than waste my time and effort trying to remain relevant.

    Ha. “Relevant”. As if a number next the followers field somehow dictates a person’s degree of worth in life. For anyone that looks with envy at the people with thousands of followers and wishes that was them, here’s some final advice: it’s not nearly as glamorous as it seems. You generally only find the shallowest and loudest people at the top of social media platforms. As fulfilling as it can be to get to feel like I made a difference, it genuinely feels better to finally step away from that toxic environment.

    In fact, it’s actually pretty crazy how good it feels to be this way. I feel clear-headed for the first time in years. No more pressure to produce ABDL content or advance my creative works or go deeper into my regression. I can finally just step back and focus on something else in my life for once. Push myself into another hobby or another sphere. Make content for something else. Hell, write a book or something. Who knows?

    Part of this involved accepting that I’ve lived my life online a bit too much and I’ve been slowly scaling back my presence in the ABDL sphere as a result. I more or less plan on disappearing, so unfortunately I don’t have any contact information or somewhere to direct you to find me. If I do pop up again, it’ll likely be to post stories, so you might keep an eye on the dailydiapers forums or the warpmymind stories page.

    So yeah. I guess this is it. Thank you to all of you who have followed me, enjoyed the stuff I’ve made, and whom I’ve gotten to know over the many years. You guys lifted me up at times when I was at my lowest and it’s been a gift to be able to do the same in return for some.

    At the end of the day, none of the pictures or stories or the number of followers will be what I take away from my time spent on here and Twitter. It’ll be knowing that I’ve been able to help others and put some more positivity into the world for a fetish as confusing to live with and manage as ours is. That’s something that I’ll always treasure 💖

    Thanks for all the memories, guys and gals and everything in between. It’s been real.

    anonymous

    Oh it certainly does make sense. I'm just too dang soft to spank with anything other than a hand I'd bet 😅. And i hope to find a baby of my own very very soon.

    It’s a big mental block for a lot of bigs, I’ve found. I get it, too. Hurting someone else, especially someone you care about enough to indulge in naughty play with, is super counter-intuitive. They’re definitely not for everyone, but despite the pain and tears and conflict, spankings can be some of the most close and intimate experiences you can have in an ABDL or BDSM relationship. I love them to death ^.^

    I hope you find your little one soon, too! I get the feeling you’re gonna be a great caregiver :3

    anonymous

    Poor baby James! Maybe his daddy should let him listen to hypnosis files in his play pen so he doesnt get bored so fast. I hate to hear about poor babies getting spanked.

    Nawww, you’re a kind soul, anon ❤️ I bet some big baby is or is going to be quite the lucky little pamper-camper with you helping them to learn to behave with nice, pretty swirls and cozy voices.

    And y’know, I’ve never envisioned hypno in James and his daddy’s relationship for some reason. I think maybe because it’s somewhat my idealized version of an ABDL relationship and I typically use hypno as a tool to get closer to that? So I never imagined James needing it? I dunno, I’m rambling XD

    As to James being a poor baby, well...Sometimes a naughty diaperboy just needs a good spanking! Especially one who’s a bit of an, ahem, slut for pain like James is. Him and his daddy’s relationship is 100% consensual, even the non-consensual parts, if that makes sense :3

    Toddler Tedium

    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

    The sound of the clock, a circular analog piece with a baby blue rim and an ever-grinning, happily diapered teddy bear set behind the rotating hands, cut through the relative quiet of the playroom. James could hear other faint noises from his position on the soft foam playmat – the click-clack of daddy making himself breakfast all the way in the kitchen, a dog barking in the yard across the street, the buzzy hum of a fan making futile attempts to blow away the summer heat – but they all may as well not have existed in comparison to the infernal timepiece.

    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

    Looking about himself in frustration, James nursed irritably on his pacifier and took in the small, odd-shaped piece of floor that had become his world as of late. Chunky plastic walls surrounded him, brightly colored in primary blue, red, and yellow. They came up just a bit shorter than his sitting height. Somewhere buried into the carpet were short peg stands that kept the walls upright and in place, ensuring the occupant was penned inside. Thin, long slits in the plastic slats allowed him a view of the world outside, while dutifully preventing him from ever actually reaching it.

    Admittedly there wasn’t much else to look at. Just his tall, sturdy changing table on the room’s opposite end, well-stocked with columns of colorfully printed disposable diapers, bulky white cloth diapers, piles of colorful plastic pants, and rows of baby powder and wipes. He spent enough time up on the table’s cheerfully printed foam changing mat that looking at it had long-since ceased holding his interest. Nearby was the room’s door, brown and boring, barely cracked to let daddy hear him whining if he needed a snack, baba, or change. Last came the naughty chair, with the black-dyed leather instrument, better known to him as Mr. Paddle, hanging off of a corner of the backrest with a loop of rope. James shuddered as he did his best to avoid looking at the chair, failing miserably and staring with resentment at the place daddy took him to receive his spankings.

    Forcing his gaze away, trying to bury the memories associated with that place of punishment, he stared down at his diaper. Baby animals grinned back up at him, the padding already bulging and squishy from the morning’s round of wet and messy accidents. James blinked in shock as he noticed the dirty yellow coloring that stained the diaper’s previously white padding was, in fact, actively spreading out. The faint sensation of a growing warmth inside the diaper reached his brain and he flushed red in humiliation as pee mixed with poop inside his infantile underwear. Of all other things besides his boredom, the last thing he wanted to consider at the moment was his ever-increasing incontinence.

    Instead, James shifted his focus to the colorful playmat that his increasingly soggy diaper was resting on. The soft and springy pad depicted various simple and blocky animals with their names underneath, providing his crinkly bottom even further cushy protection while in the pen. The squishy material made sure his knees, hands, and butt never ached or got tired while playing. If only he could say the same about his enthusiasm, he thought ruefully as he sat back and surveyed the rest of the enclosure.

    Toys littered the playpen, seemingly abandoned in various states of play. A coloring book opened to a half-finished page. Action figures lined up, entrenched in an apparently unending battle. A ring-stacker with only the smallest ring on the peg, the rest somehow having been scattered to all corners of the enclosure. Several stuffed animals were strewn about as well, the big, beige teddy bear cuddled tightly to the adult baby’s chest included. James briefly considered finishing the coloring page, but the thought of filling in the lines of what must have been his hundredth sunny cartoon animal picture just wasn’t doing it for him.

    Normally, or at least in the normal that existed before daddy introduced the playpen, seeing all these toys in one place for him to play with would have sent his heart aflutter. After several weeks of being guided through the chubby plastic gate, secured behind him with a resounding clunk of the plastic lock, and made to sit down to play every day, things were wearing thin. The dumb clock with its dumb, goofy teddy bear wasn’t helping things either. It was just a reminder that he’d been set down to play only an hour ago and, in all likelihood, wouldn’t be let out for another few hours. Released so he could crawl behind his caregiver’s patient legs into the kitchen where a highchair lunch of daddy’s “messy baby specialty”, spaghetti-o’s and mashed peas with a bottle of formula, would be waiting for him. Fortunately, once he’d been spoon-fed his numnums and gotten all cleaned up, he’d be allowed time to do what he wanted after that. Until dinner, at least.

    But lunch seemed like forever away right now. Dinner? An eternity. James felt frustration building inside at how helpless he’d become, not helped in the least by the squish and stink of his used diaper. The playpen walls were barely a couple feet tall. He could just stand up and step right over them! Unfortunately even something as simple as standing up wasn’t an action he was allowed right now, at least not without permission. Doing so would inevitably result in another date with Mr. Paddle and several days stuck in his punishment booties.

    The booties were nasty things. All cutesy and innocent to an outside observer, but with dull spikes set into the soles and magnetic locks at the ankles to ensure that any attempt to stand would result in a painful lesson. Most importantly to daddy, they certainly left no choice in leaving his playpen. The diaperboy shifted uncomfortably in his infantile prison, almost able to feel the sting of the paddle and the faint bite of the spikes digging into his heels despite his “correction” from daddy having been almost a week past.

    In short, James ruminated, he was stuck where he was. A fully-grown man in his early 30’s with a pacifier plugging his mouth, thickly layered diapers taped securely around his waist that he’d been progressively filling with piddle and mush, and afraid to leave a playpen for fear of punishment from his daddy. Not just his daddy, but his husband, who fully expected him to entertain himself with the simple toddler toys each day. He flushed red as he realized his peepee had somehow grown hard and twitchy at this particular thought, pulling his bear in for a closer cuddle and nursing a bit more intently on the baby blue pacifier in his mouth. Everything about the situation was so hot in concept! If only it were as engaging in real life, too.

    To his credit, he had managed to keep himself entertained for quite a while. Two weeks went by after daddy had brought the playpen into the house and for two weeks James had managed to enjoy himself for four hours of every day. He reveled in the infantile headspace brought about by the wealth of toys and plushies, not to mention knowing he was being “kept somewhere safe while daddy works”, as daddy enjoyed putting it. The third week had proved to be his downfall, however.

    It was just last Thursday when James had finally grown tired of all the brightly colored toys and decided to make some additions to the playpen to try to keep it feeling fresh and fun. He had stood up, stepped over the playpen wall, and toddled through the house, gathering and depositing an old TV, his game console, and his giant stuffed bear, Bearnard, who had become a welcome addition since then for both nice and naughty sorts of snuggles. James realized he had caught daddy’s attention about half-way through, but his partner hadn’t said a word, simply observing and letting him proceed.

    When James had finished and was feeling a bit satisfied with himself, daddy had silently taken his hand and tugged him over to the straight-backed and rigid wood chair in the room’s corner where his dates with Mr. Paddle occurred. The naughty chair. Immediately knowing what was coming, but too strongly conditioned in accepting his punishments to resist, he let himself be pulled across daddy’s lap. The soaked, droopy diaper between his legs was tugged down to expose his smooth-shaven cheeks and thighs beneath. Tears had already begun welling up in his eyes in anticipation of the impending spanking.

    “James,” his husband had rumbled in that soft and firm daddy voice, one hand gently patting and massaging his bottom, “First I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You were such a big boy, finding all that fun stuff and getting it set up so nicely in your playpen. You did very good work and daddy is happy to let you keep it all in there. However,” the rubbing stopped, “I think you know what you did wrong. Do you know what you did wrong, little boy?”

    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

    From the nearby wall the teddy bear clock ticked away, the only sound in the tense and quiet playroom for several moments. James had been reluctant to admit to being naughty. He knew from the day the playpen had been set up that he wasn’t allowed out without daddy’s permission once he’d been put in. It was the one rule his grownup had stipulated regarding the new addition. Still, was he really being that naughty by taking it upon himself to alleviate his boredom instead of bothering daddy during work? At the time he hadn’t thought so and so he remained silent. Defiant, he now knew, to his own detriment.

    “Ah, so that’s how it is,” daddy let out a brief chuckle, “Fine, have it your way, fussypants. Let’s see if a tiny warm-up helps little Jamie find his voice.”

    SMACK! THWACK! CRACK!

    Without any further warning, daddy’s palm began slowly and steadily raining down blows on little Jamie’s butt. By ten spanks he was letting out whimpers. By twenty he was squirming and struggling, his preemptive tears having already streaked down his face, with more joining them each second. By thirty he’d started sobbing, loudly begging daddy to stop. That didn’t happen until the fortieth smack had landed and his sobs had turned into a full-on cry.

    “So. Are you feeling like speaking up now that we’ve gotten your tush all nice and warm?”

    “Yuh-yuh-yes daddy,” James had choked out past his tearful sobs.

    “I’ll ask again, then. What did you do wrong, little boy?”

    “I...I got out of my pwaypen wifout asking duh-daddy first. I’m sowwy daddy, I’m so sowwy!” He hadn’t even bothered trying to cover the pacifier-induced lisp by that point.

    “Good boy! That’s right, you got out of your playpen without daddy to help you. Babies like you need to be kept safe and sound somewhere that grownups know they won’t get in trouble, don’t they?”

    “Yes daddy!”

    “Good, I’m glad you understand. Now we can get your punishment for it out of the way. Remember, binky stays in or Mr. Paddle gets to have another visit.”

    The feel of the leather paddle being placed firmly across both cheeks had brought about a fresh wave of tears from the adult baby and his daddy wasted no time in putting it to use. Smack after razor-sharp smack sounded out as the paddle assaulted his poor tush, which was quickly turning a shade of deep crimson that bordered on purple. James had flailed at first, kicking his legs and wildly pumping his arms up and down with his hands balled up into weak fists. All this, despite knowing from past experience that any attempts to block the paddle or stand up would just make things worse.

    The impotent struggles rendered his wriggling movements as futile expressions of his infantile helplessness, at best. There was no other option. No escape. All he could do was accept, truly accept on a deep and emotional level, that he had been a bad baby boy and, as a result, he now needed a spanking to properly learn his lesson.

    Finally, after his world had shrunk down to nothing more than the stinging bite of the paddle and the spot of tear-soaked carpet inches away from his face - after his struggles had died down to feeble twitches and recalcitrant sobs - after he’d thoroughly resolved to never be naughty, ever again, the paddling stopped. Daddy had set the paddle aside and gently rubbed the adult toddler’s sore and burning bottom with his palm, leaning over to whisper firmly and intently about how James could be a good boy in the future. How babies belong in playpens when grownups aren’t there to watch over them and how James needed to be kept safe. That he wasn’t big enough to be allowed to wander around alone just yet. About how daddy only spanked because he wanted James to be his good baby boy. That this had been for his own good.

    They stayed like that for several minutes as James fought to stop crying, nodding along to daddy’s instructions and doing his best to internalize them like a good boy. As with the end of every spanking, a handful of cool, soothing lotion was soon applied to each cheek and his wet diaper was tugged back up to its rightful place on his bottom. They spent a long time afterwards in a close hug, with his legs straddling daddy’s waist and splayed to the sides of the naughty chair’s backrest, diaper drooping slightly between his husband’s thighs.

    James apologized more formally once he’d regained his composure, but daddy just shushed him, rubbing his back and telling him how much daddy loved his baby boy. That he’d already taken his punishment and apologized as much as he needed to. Now he just needed to behave.

    James simply nodded in response to this, burying his face into daddy’s shoulder and listening to the only sound in the otherwise silent room, a teddy bear clock dutifully ticking away the seconds.

    And behave he had, he reflected as his mind came back to the present. Every time he started getting bored of coloring books, stuffies, and toy trains, the stinging memory of the session with Mr. Paddle set him straight. The television and game console had to remain unplugged for a week as a reminder of his transgression, but he was due to get TV-privileges in a couple days. He almost wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was eagerly looking forward to watching toddler shows and playing children’s games.

    For the time being, however…

    Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

    “Hey, is he--”

    “She,” Master corrected his friend, Dan, more out of instinct than reproach.

    “Right, is she shitting herself?”

    Master, sitting on the living room couch next to his friend, looked up from his phone to take in the scene playing out in front of them.

    His submissive, sissified adult baby boy, or Baby Bambi as he insisted everyone call her, was clutching her balled up fists to her chest and crouching down slightly, eyes squeezed shut with an expression of concentration. The much too short, much too infantile pink and printed baby dress did nothing to cover the thick, wet diaper snuggled up between her chubby thighs. The overgrown, sissified toddler was letting out several whines and grunts from behind her pacifier, an expression of pleasure and contentment plastered across her face.

    “Mmm, well that’s definitely her poopy position. Probably, yeah.”

    “Gross!” laughed Dan, “And she likes it?”

    “Oh man, she loves it. Pooping her pampers is Bambi’s favorite thing, isn’t it Bambi?”

    Shocked from whatever internal reverie was occupying him, the pink and frilly boy opened his eyes and immediately blushed, dipping his head submissively and obediently to his Master.

    “Yeth Master, Bambi wuvs goin’ poopoo in diapy! Feels all mushy an’ warm an’ squishy!”

    The sissy paused a moment, ignoring Dan’s disgusted laughter at her response and obviously trying to think something through before continuing in her pacifier-garbled lisp, “Could um...could Bambi pweez do bimbo buzzies, Master?”

    “Of course that’s all you can think about after shitting yourself,” Master rolled his eyes, grin widening as his sub’s cheeks reddened further, “No, Bambi. You can give a bimbo blowjob instead, though! Won’t that be fun? Why don’t you come over and show Mister Dan how nice it is having a sissy slut like you around. If you do really good, he may even want to babysit you sometime!”

    Dan blinked, surprised to have been brought into this. Not one to turn down a free nut, however, he smirked and started loosening his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. “More like if you do well enough I won’t spank your ass raw, sissy.”

    Bambi’s eyes teared up, having gone so quickly from nice, cozy poopies in her pampers to being pimped out to Master’s friend. Sucking much more fervently on her binky, getting what solace she could out of it before the coming task, she silently and obediently dropped to her knees and began crawling over to where the two grownups were watching her from, grinning like wolves.

    Disobedience never even entered Bambi’s mind. Just a strong desire to show Master’s friend how good of a cocksucker she was so she wouldn’t get a sore tush before bedtime. Besides, the tiny pink cock cage underneath his diapers, Bambi’s “good girl tube” as Master put it, told the truth with its constant, achingly delicious twitching and straining in response to this treatment. Bambi needed this. She loved every second.

    Untraining Progression

    Hi babies! Made an update for my untraining journal thing on DD and figured some of you might enjoy seeing it as well ^.^ There hasn’t been much in the way of changes recently (besides my diapers, obviously :p), so instead I made a little timeline of my progress in untraining. Maybe it could be of some use as guideposts for other untrainers, or maybe it’ll just be a fun read for some of y’all x3 Either way, enjoy!

    2009-2018 - 24/7

       -First started wearing 24/7 with the encouragement of a dominant friend. Never really stopped for good after that!

       -Some false starts and many breaks taken at first, sometimes for weeks. These petered off as time went on, but remained present up until midway through my untraining. Most commonly I would dip down to 12/7 or 16/7 for a week or two, but diapers were almost always a part of every day. I think my most recent "break" was perhaps a bit less than a year ago, for one night (I had soaked my diaper and bed overnight and was so tired that I just ripped the diaper and sheets off and went back to sleep instead of getting freshly padded 😅).

       -Mostly learned to wet consistently while standing and sitting. Wasn't pushing for incontinence at the time, so I never practiced otherwise, outside of trying to wet while in bed occasionally.

       -Became accustomed to the change in body shape and the need for larger pants to disguise my diapers, particularly for work.

       -Learned everything I needed to know about wearing around others. Keeping a changing bag on me, ways to sit, stand, and walk to better hide the diaper bulge, using plain onesies and plastic pants to mask crinkle, peekage, and smells, and getting over the fear and worry of wearing at work and around people I was close to, such as parents and friends.

       -In the latter half of this period I began to experience what I now realize were foundations for my untraining. First, automatic wetting while at work. In this timeframe I worked in an office space with 4-person desks, meaning I was in close quarters with others. For that reason I kept myself as hydrated as I could to cut down on any urine smells. Over time I eventually found myself wetting not exactly without thought, but with only the barest acknowledgement of letting go. I had to retrain on this after letting it lapse later on, but it was my first indication that untraining might actually work.

       -The other foundation was that I began to start waking up to pee ~6 years in. No water before bed or anything, it just happened. Only once per night at first, but eventually 2-3 times. Doctors found no issue so I just put it down to my body becoming comfortable being in and using my diapers. For a long time I would wake up, stand up out of bed, wet my diaper, get back in bed, and then go to sleep. After maybe a year of this I got fed up with doing that and taught myself to wet while laying down finally. This led to some much better sleep and, eventually, after a couple years...

        January 25th, 2018 (I literally only know this date because I made a post on Tumblr about it 😄)

       -This is the day that I finally felt comfortable saying that I was a bedwetter. I had started actually moving towards bedwetting specifically about 6 months previous to this when I first began to get into hypnosis, so I suppose this was a culmination of my now-weak overnight bladder and the ritualization of drinking a liter of water before bed and going to sleep in a dry diaper.

       -I had multiple sleepwetting incidents before this, but I was still in that, "Is this really happening?" phase where I couldn't believe I was actually bedwetting and wanted to attribute it to waking up in the night, but being unable to remember it. That day was just the day that tipped the scales of my belief. I had slept like a log and woken up totally refreshed...and totally soaked 🥰

       -I was waking up wet most nights a week at that point, but quickly dropped down to 2-3 nights (probably due to the below timestamp). While that rate has oscillated above and below that number at times since then, it's otherwise remained consistent up to this day. I'm hoping my frequency will increase as my daytime control continues to erode, but we'll have to wait and see.

        The rest of 2018

       -While I was overjoyed at first about the bedwetting development, it caused me to drop down into a bit of a shame spiral. I've spoken about this before, but the long and short is that I stopped untraining and thus had no real progress to speak of outside of maintaining my bedwetting.

       -I took a long break at some point during this, only wearing diapers to bed for a couple months. I was desperate to stop any further effects from happening and so swore off diapers entirely outside of the time that I now seemed to legitimately need them.

       -Instead I spent most of this year working on my submission and baby training. I won't get too deep into this, but I will say that growing to feel more at home in the role of a baby within my relationship and becoming accustomed to obeying and sticking to rules probably helped me quite a bit when it came to applying myself to untraining and sticking with it later on down the road.

        January-May 2019

       -I'd come to accept and worked past my depression and shame, finally accepting that incontinence was a part of me. Not just something I wanted for kicks, but something that I needed. I was tired of the dysphoria between mind and body causing me mental anguish, so I made the conscious decision to fully untrain and haven't looked back since. I was primarily shooting for urinary incontinence, but had an "if it happens, it happens" attitude towards bowel incontinence.

       -I had no issues with daytime control at this point, particularly with my bladder. With messing, I was already used to taking a fiber supplement every morning and that made sure I had ample opportunity for practice at relaxing and letting go when the urge struck.

       -I began to focus on keeping my bladder relaxed after a wetting. I got pretty good at this, but consistently still found my bladder holding on until it was full for hours at a time before I'd get to wetting. This became a theme throughout my untraining and is one that I still have trouble with sometimes to this day (right now, as a matter of fact 😑 Excuse me a moment...)

       -Practiced wetting in various positions and scenarios. Got used to wetting in virtually every way possible, with walking and driving being my only two big stumbling blocks.

       -Tried to focus on keeping my sphincters relaxed just in normal day-to-day life. I had the most trouble with this, as my manual control over my sphincters had never been that good. All I knew was the default feeling of them being tensed. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how to manually relax, to the point that I still have trouble with it. There's not much doubt in my mind that this now-occasional inability to relax and my bladder filling up as mentioned above are linked. Hopefully when I break through on one, the other will follow.

       -Began to focus on hydrating more. I feel like my progression would have been faster if I had stuck to this more closely. I knew I needed to do it, but I'm one of those people that forgets to do things like eat and drink for entire days when I get fixated on something and that's been difficult to overcome.

       -By the time June rolled around I was getting pretty frustrated with my lack of progress. After my initial success with keeping my sphincter relaxed post-wetting, I was now feeling like I was stalling out. By the end of June I finally decided to just quit worrying about untraining for a little while, which is seemingly what brought about my next point of progress.

        June-Early September 2019

       -After all of the attention and focus I paid to when I was going and how easily I was relaxing when the urge occurred, finally taking a break from untraining and not focusing on it seemed to change my bladder's behavior. It's almost like my bladder's functionality became a background process that ran itself automatically. I would still consciously feel the urge to wet, the sphincter releasing, and the wetting itself, but it's like my body just took over all of the responsibility on its own. If I didn't actively stop it from happening or cause it to stop by moving around, I'd just wet my diaper naturally.

       -I took this new behavior and ran with it. I found that focusing my attention elsewhere when I realized I was going to pee soon would enhance the effect. I began instead focusing on work, drinking my bottle, talking with someone, reading something, playing a game, or whatever else I could besides my bladder and just let it do its thing.

       -Towards the end of July and into early August I realized that my bowel control had significantly decreased. I'd had several "accidents" where I'd be standing and the urge to mess would strike. I would barely be able to get a few steps in before I'd empty into my diapers. I probably could have still stopped it if I wanted to and clenched down really hard, but that wasn’t exactly something I ever wanted to try. All of the daily fiber and relaxed messing practice finally seemed to be paying off. In terms of the 12-month guide, I think this is when I began to have what it calls reflex bowel movements, where you still feel it coming out, but you let your body just do its thing instead of consciously allowing or preventing messes.

       -Anecdotal, but possibly relevant. I was in the habit of playing a little holding game every few weeks or so with liquid glycerine suppositories, seeing how long I could stave off messing after applying one just to get that helpless messing feeling. From May-July my times went from 15+ minutes down to consistently less than a minute. I would try to clench and hold it in, but all I’d feel down there would be a twinge or a twitch instead of the muscle actually tightening. It’s unfortunately not a very fun game anymore, outside of the end result 😅

       -September was mostly a wash. More poopy accidents and I definitely became more accustomed to having them. I learned to stop pushing when I needed to go and instead just took deep breaths, focusing on something else, very much like how I was regulating my daytime wetting to a background process I didn't need to think about as it happened.

    Late September-December 2019

       -I had been in a bit of a mental slump since my previous development in wetting, where I was now letting my body just do its thing. Despite it now being automatic, I would still occasionally sense the urge to go and my body wouldn’t release on its own. I couldn’t consistently hit that immediate urge > wetting reaction. It seemed like things weren’t progressing at all beyond that point, but it turned out that I just needed to be patient. Around the end of September I began to notice the urge > wet reflex was happening much, much more frequently. I'd be on a call for work, feel the faint twinge telling me I need to pee, and I'd just keep on going while my body handled the wetting for me without needing to think much about it.

       -My first peepee accidents! A few days of this more-relaxed wetting later, I began to notice that I was letting go without feeling an urge to wet or my bladder relaxing. Where before I would still notice the urge, then the relaxing sensation, and then the wetting, now instead it had become more of a, “Oh! I guess I’m peeing now!” sort of sensation.

      -These accidents were few and far between at the time, but became steadily more common over the next couple months. By mid-December I found myself having wetting accidents perhaps not every day, but every other day or so.

       -Two accidents made me particularly proud. The first time, around that same late September period, was when I didn’t realize I was peeing until after I’d already begun to do so and had emptied half of my bladder. The other, around mid-December, was the first time I reached down to feel my diaper and found it warm to the touch, with 0 recollection of having wet myself.

       -No other big milestones in this time period. Messing became steadily more natural and bedwetting continued to oscillate between 2-5 nights a week, with 2 or 3 being the most common.

    January-April 2020

       -I hit a pretty major depressive downswing towards the end of 2019 and it lasted several months, so I unfortunately don’t have any good documented information about how my progress went other than my summary post in this thread. I’ll hit the major bullet points for the time period here though.

       -My urinary control dipped drastically. Other people mention approaching the edge of a steep downward slope or spiral when it comes to untraining, where changes to your body and habits start coming at you one after the other, and I think I experienced mine at some point during this timeframe. Not only was wetting a background process now, I was beginning to forget the fact that I had even wet myself at all after having done the deed. I was also beginning to lose any sensation of fullness in my bladder, at most getting a faint twinge that my brain would promptly ignore. I guess you could call it a deeper level of background regulation, where the habit was becoming more ingrained and natural. Instead of reaching down to squeeze my diaper for comfort, I was doing so to figure out how wet I was, if I needed a change, or if I had even wet at all yet. This isn’t to say that I didn’t notice myself peeing anymore. I did, but for the most part would quickly forget about it. Wetting my diaper became as everyday and normal as a cough, burp, or sneeze, and equally forgettable.

       -In addition to wetting becoming more automatic, my accident frequency had increased dramatically as well. Instead of every other day, wettings without realizing I needed to go were now everyday and semi-frequent occurrences, something I was growing accustomed to. I still needed to consciously relax to wet sometimes, but the spread became much closer to 50/50 for accidents vs. conscious wettings.

        -I began to wet automatically in much more frequent and varying positions and situations. Before this accidents would typically only happen if I was occupied while sitting down or standing in place (brushing teeth, cooking, washing dishes, etc.), but it started to become much more ubiquitous. While in conversation, while walking, laying down, and just generally kinda whenever. Deep breaths in particular became a big trigger for wetting myself, I’m guessing because focusing on my breathing is one of the big techniques I used to learn to relax my sphincters during training.

       -At some point I began to have urge incontinence and OAB symptoms. Sometimes when I’d get an urge to pee it would be so strong and so drastic that I’d need to release as quickly as possible. At the time it was a bit annoying when wetting had mostly become an automatic action, but now I realize it’s just a result of that background process at work. When you automatically ignore your bladder’s signals that you need to pee, you’re probably gonna end up with a full-to-bursting bladder occasionally. I also began to gush out small bursts of pee when I coughed, sneezed, laughed, or lifted something heavy. These little accidents started out as something that only happened in the 15-30 minutes after I had released a full wetting into my diaper, but slowly expanded out to any time during the day.

       -I was no longer flooding, unless I had one of the full-bladder incidents mentioned above. Instead I was starting to have much more frequent, smaller and shorter little bursts of pee.

       -The above milestones about regulating control to an automatic action and losing sensations of fullness began to apply to messing as well. My tummy rumbles became less important and the warning I’d get before a mess filled my pamps shortened. Once I started messing naturally I’d often get maybe 25-30 minutes of warning after waking up where I could tell that I’d be going in the near future, but when was a gamble. That time steadily diminished. I went from getting that full tummy feeling when I woke, but not actually letting go until after I’d finished my coffee, to suddenly feeling a gurgle while going about my morning routine, followed immediately by filling my seat.

       -I stopped needing fiber to have regular and loose/less controllable messes. I guess my digestive track finally got the message and got itself in order 😅 I’ve flip-flopped between taking it regularly since then. I like being able to get by without it, but the bigger and more frequent messes do make it worth it. Mostly I rely on my grownups to know if I should nowadays.

       -I had a brief period around April where I began to push my messes out again, but in a more reflexive, surprised sort of way where the urge would hit and my instinctive reaction would be to push. This dipped away pretty quickly, however, outside of times when my messes weren’t soft enough to go out on their own and I more or less had to push.

       -Bedwetting remained about the same, with some small changes. Rather than sleeping through the night, sometimes I would wake up to find my diaper soaked and my bladder bursting, as if my body woke me up because it knew I was going to leak. On the one hand it was a nice change because it meant my body was outputting more urine at night, but on the other it sucked because I was waking up to wet more often again.

       -To summarize a little, this time period is when I began to feel comfortable saying that I was no longer potty trained during the daytime. That I was now reliant upon diapers to stay dry and clean, particularly because wetting accidents were now a regular and daily part of my life.

        May-Present (July) 2020

       -Not much has changed...and that’s okay! One thing I’ve learned over the several years of retraining my bladder and bowel habits is that you don’t always notice changes happening, but they are. You just have to be patient and one day you’ll suddenly realize that you’ve blown past that mental roadblock that was getting you down.

       -I had been getting pretty deep into certain full-time sissy baby life/play elements with an online grownup friend (My daddy!) right around the start of May and we spent a good couple months exploring that dynamic in addition to focusing on untraining, which perhaps spread my attention a bit too thin for much progress to happen. Like I said though, it’s okay. I was still focusing on relaxing and still keeping up with my training, just not channeling all of my energy into it. I think sometimes we get so caught up in untraining that we don’t realize that we need a break from it. Most of my biggest successes have been after a period of rest and relaxation, so if you’re finding yourself stuck you might give it a shot 🥰

       -I hit a pretty major downswing again in mid-June and haven’t worked much harder at things beyond the basics since then. Feeling better now, however, and ready to get back to it! Not that I really feel that I have a whole lot left to accomplish anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I still need to get to the point where I’m not even aware of my wetting and messing most of the time, if not all, but in general I consider myself physically diaper dependent now. Mission accomplished!

    anonymous

    You allow your uncensored face in your NSFW pictures on this page. Are you not worried about being caught? I get that the statistical chance of someone you know finding this page is very slim, but do you not worry if they do?

    Not really? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not particularly one to invite trouble down on myself, but being “found out” isn’t a scenario that bothers me very much. If someone I know came across this stuff and had an extremely negative reaction to it, I’d cut them out of my life. Simple as that. I’ve done it before and I’d happily do it again. This is the lifestyle that lets me lead a happy, productive life in society as a whole. I uphold my end of the social contract, so if someone has a problem with what I do otherwise they can fuck right off tbh x3

    I don’t know if this is an attitude that people acquire as they get older (especially because I’ve had this attitude since I was 18 lol), but I believe that your life is your own and, so long you aren’t hurting anyone else, you should do what you want with it, regardless of the social or cultural “norms” that might give you pause. Many of those societal beliefs are rooted in things like religion, bigotry, hatred, fear of the unknown, and misunderstanding. Why should I give a shit about following them? These puritanical cultural “values” are the reason we still have very little mainstream acceptance of kink, particularly kink lifestyles. While it’s getting better, we’re still a long ways off from the majority adopting a “live and let live” mentality. Until people can actually be open about themselves, it’s going to be dangerous. So if you live a lifestyle like mine and want to share it with your community, face or not, you kind of need to have this attitude. It’s both your sword and your shield.

    If someone I know finds my page and would rather adhere to those norms than be my friend/sibling/parent/whatever, then I know that I’d rather not have them in my life. They aren’t worth my time, or anyone else’s really imo. Thing is, the people I care about in my life know already and accept me regardless. Their opinions are the only ones that matter to me.

    As to why I do it in the first place, since I feel that’s relevant to this question, showing photos with my face is very much an aesthetic choice. While I don’t think a face always needs to be in a picture, when you’re shooting a portrait the face is very commonly the most important part. The “soul” of the picture, if you will. I respect the people that want to maintain their privacy, especially because they can get extremely creative with how they express themselves in other ways and that’s just amazing, but to me blurring out or hiding the face usually eliminates my ability to connect with the subject on a personal level. To truly understand what they want to convey.

    The face is what we as humans connect to. It’s how we communicate our feelings to one another. While the body’s pose and the surroundings can portray some feeling and circumstance, the expression and emotion on someone’s face is what really tells you the story 9 times out of 10 and that’s what I love photos for. The story. The million different stories that could be told from a single picture. I’m no professional model or actor (as shown by having the same expression in the majority of my pictures XD), so I won’t pretend that I do it well, but it’s why I do it.

    Fetish-related or not, photos are art. Even the vain and narcissistic selfies that people like me take to put up on here. I feel like obscuring part of the work just on the chance that someone might stumble across it and be offended by the content is a disservice to that work. And don’t get me wrong, I understand that not everyone is in my circumstances. Im able to make this choice. Other people have much, much more to lose than I do, or don’t want to take the inherent societal risk that comes from exposing yourself like this, and I would never fault them for that. I both understand that and respect those people for making content in any form regardless. Face or no face, sharing yourself, putting your image out there to be both enjoyed and critiqued, is hard. Hard, but often rewarding. Often in ways we’d never expect

    Just to provide an example, I can’t count the number of messages I’ve received over the years from ABDLs, young and old, who have told me that I’ve inspired them to be more open about their feelings or helped them to accept themselves. To feel normal about this strange fetish we all share that is often terrifying at first. Those are the messages that I hold most dear from fans of my content. They’re almost a tangible thing that I can point to and say, “I helped make the world a little bit better, at least for a single person out there”. That’s an invaluable experience, one that I treasure and always will. And the thing is, I don’t think I could have had nearly the same impact if I always kept my face obscured, if I kept all the emotion out of everything I made. There may be some risk involved, but has that risk been worth the good that I’ve put out into the world? Absolutely.

    In short, I’m not at all saying that I’m bulletproof, especially if facial recog AI moves forward into public use. My face has probably been scraped thousands of times off of a dozen different sites, so that ship’s already sailed. Maybe it will impact me negatively in the future, maybe not. Either way, I’ll be living my own life, the way I want to live it and the way that makes me happy. So long as I have that and my husband, that’s all I need. Thanks for the great question, lurker!