Watch me make a Super Loud Mess in my Diapee

I can’t afford more Diapees and I’m only $10 away from my first JFF payment!

🥺

Belt whipping in sheer panties.

Baby Strikes Out

“No! No! No! Noooooo!”   I stamped my feet and chewed furiously around the invasive pacifier bulb filling my mouth. My cheeks burned, fully aware of the spectacle I was making as my wife and her friends looked on in surprised amusement, and perhaps a bit of second-hand embarrassment. But I didn’t care. This had gone far enough!   She could take away my video games, dress me in this ridiculous outfit, drag me through humiliation after degrading humiliation, but a bed time?? This was the last straw! Over the last year Mommy (wait, no I mean Sara!) had managed to strip every past identifier of my old life and the man I used to be, and with each privilege and cherished article gone I found myself becoming the person… the baby she wanted me to be. But dammit I was still a fan! And it’s the World Series! I’ve been waiting for this moment all year, my whole life even! She can’t make me go to bed now.   “You said… You said I could stay up! And watch with your friends! I want to watch!” I cried. I had even agreed to join them in the living room wearing the ridiculous new onesie she got me, the words “Mommy’s Lil Slugger” emblazoned over a cartoon ball and bat across my chest, all with the expectation that I could watch my team take the field on the greatest stage. Just to feel normal again, for even one night.   I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks now. Sliding under the plastic guard of the pacifier, already slick with my spit, collecting with the drool running down my chin. The leg gatherings of my embarrassingly thick diaper rustled with each frustrated stomp. It was a full on tantrum now. She did it, she finally broke me. Months of restraints, supplements, spankings, all to force me into submission. But this finally broke me.   “I want! I want! I want!” I wailed, shook my mittened fists, and stomped my feet, the soft booties making only the dullest of thuds on the carpet. What was I doing?? I’ve never thrown a fit like this! Not since I was an actual baby. Not with Mommy watching. Not with her friends watching!! But I couldn’t help it, I was fully in it now, singularly focused on this final act of resistance.   And that’s when I felt it. The tummy gurgle. Suddenly ripped from my infantile tunnel vision, I felt myself brought soberingly back to a few short hours ago, before the guests arrived, confined tightly in the kitchen highchair, struggling in vain against the pastel leather straps as Mommy shoveled spoonful after spoonful of orange mush past my quivering lips. I suddenly remembered watching helplessly as the occasional dollop of slop splattered pathetically against the white plastic tray, and thinking that something was off. I wasn’t able to focus on it then, having to quickly steel myself for the next disgusting mouthful, much of which destined to end up smeared across my face anyway, but I was right. It wasn’t a trick of the eye, I had seen the unmistakable white powder carelessly mixed in with baby food. Laxatives! But why? Why Mommy? I was good today! I was good!   *Gurgle*   Another violent churn of my bowels brought me back to the moment. Frantically I looked around the room. To Lauren and Michael watching fixated from the couch. Alyssa sitting on Brad’s lap on the armchair. All looking on in a mixture of amazement and horror as the diapered boy before them doubled over, now clutching his stomach. I took one last look at Mommy and caught the slightest smirk firming on her gorgeous lips. And then it happened. Rivers of thick, gooey mush forced their way out of my backside, filling every crevice of space in my previously pristine white diaper. I bit down on my paci, grunted, and cried softly to myself as the back of my already thick diapers crinkled loudly, bulging further outwards. The adorable felt catcher’s mitt sewn onto the butt expanded to hold the softball sized lump growing in the seat of my pants. I moaned pathetically as my bladder surrendered as well, urine flowing endlessly through the opening of my baby blue cage, pooling and mixing with the shameful mess below. Finally finished with the humiliating ordeal and drained from my screaming fit, I felt my bowed legs suddenly give out beneath me and before I could stop myself, I was falling. Though only a couple feet, it felt an eternity before SPLAT, my bottom collided with the carpeted floor, smearing my mess deeper into the confines of my plastic prison. I could feel it threatening to creep up my back past the waistband, straining against the leg guards, and coating my naughty bits. Parts that even I didn’t get to touch.   And so I sobbed. I sobbed for myself, the poor, miserable position I found myself in, and the person, the baby, I had become. But honestly? I mostly sobbed as a scared little boy, who needed his Mommy and who needed a change. I felt her delicate hands cup my chin as she raised my puffy red face to meet her maternal gaze.   “All I said was to go brush your lil teefies and get ready for bed. I didn’t say that it was your bed time…”   My cheeks burned even redder than before, I tried to look away but she had my chin firmly now. I chewed my pacifier nervously.   “But after this? You clearly aren’t old enough to stay up with us big kids. Maybe it is somebody’s bed time. Sorry everyone, someone gets a bit cranky this late at night. Let me go tuck this lil stinker in and I’ll be back to watch the game in a few minutes. There’s beers in the fridge!”   She turned back to me. “Come, baby.”   She began to walk past the foyer and up the landing to ascend the stairs, pausing only to look back and give me that look that said “you had better come right now if you know what’s good for you.”   Feeling more humiliated than ever before but terrified of what Mommy might do if I didn’t comply, I rolled over, feeling the soppy squish of my loaded diaper as I came to a kneel, and began the long crawl up the stairs, thankful the buttons holding my onesie, strained though they were, hadn’t popped. As I climbed, I tried to ignore the hushed whispers and excited gasps from below, opting to stare intently at each wooden step and hope I could turn invisible. Still, I couldn’t help but look up to glance at Mommy’s pert figure. Her luscious curves moving with each swaying step. Her skirt flared and I caught the slightest glimpse of her delicate lace panties and I felt my member begin to harden in my baby print prison before the plastic of the cage uncomfortably reminded me of my unenviable situation. As if the squelching stew in the seat of my pants couldn’t do that enough.   Finally, we found ourselves at the door to my dreaded nursery. Despite the pastel walls, colorful block lettered mat, and general softness radiating from every conceivable angle, I couldn’t help but shudder to think of every painful memory to take place here over the last year, each one robbing me just a bit more of my old self. I couldn’t reminisce for long, though, as I heard mommy’s syrupy sweet words of encouragement. “Come on baby!” I began to crawl towards the changing table, towering above me in the opposite corner of the room, its shelves stacked high with row upon row of fluffy, white, cartoon imprinted diapers, bottles of baby powder, tubs of wipes, and many more exotic implements meant to regress and humiliate me ever further.   “Ah, ah, ah! This time Mommy did say bed time. And Mommy meant it.“   Stunned, I looked back at her to see if she might be kidding. Or if my pleading gaze might change her mind. But I saw no such remorse in her eyes, or in the mischievous grin curling up her lips. “Crib. Now.”   Defeated, I crawled over to the adorable, oversized baby bed that had become my nightly prison, slumped over the lowered side and lifted one leg after the other as I clambered gingerly inside, my full diaper squishing and churning with each awkward movement. Mommy stepped over, raised the bars and I heard the telltale click locking them in place. I sighed deeply, resigning myself to an early night and what was sure to be an uncomfortable morning highlighted by a diaper rash I knew I wouldn’t soon forget. Mommy leaned over the railing, handed me a bottle of warm milk and kissed me on the forehead, her butter-soft breasts swaying gently underneath her loosely buttoned baseball jersey.   “Night night sweetie, I’ll check on you in the morning. Behave yourself!”   She turned and strutted out of the room, turning out the light as she went, leaving me in almost total darkness, the shapes of the changing table, my play pen, toy box and the dreaded punishment corner barely illuminated by the soft orange glow of my Winnie The Pooh night light. The smell from my mess permeated the nursery and mixed with the ever-present aroma of powder, ointment and stale urine. I wish I could say it bothered me, but truthfully I had grown used to it. Delicately, I rolled over onto my back, trying to avoid disturbing the toxic sludge below, the constant reminder of my infantile state, and spat out my pacifier. Reluctantly, I began to suck on my baba as I strained to listen to the sounds of the game below, wishing desperately that someone would suggest turning up the volume, as the sounds of the night air outside began to swell with the chorus of summertime, punctuated only by the occasional cheer from the living room, or from the neighbors next door. “Must be a good game,” I thought to myself as my eyelids began to droop. My head hit the pillow, and soon I was born swiftly off to dreams of hitting a home run and rounding the plates, blissfully unaware of whatever new adventures, and newer lows, the morning would surely bring.

I just keep getting spanked no matter what I do😭😭😭

This is what happens when the school bully finds what underwear you wear.

Me: No please don't do that.😱

Bully: Why? That's all a big baby like you deserves.😆

Me: I'll do what you tell me to do.😣

Bully: Oh really, Then start with my homework and for the rest we will see.🤔😏😈

Nothing like a two liter enema to make me feel better

big shirt, bigger diapers… tiny cage……👉👈

Stinky Boy at the Park

I sighed with frustration as I stood at the top of the quarter pipe. This trip to the skate park was going to be a busy because of a rumbling in my stomach. I couldn’t focus on my tricks and the slightly crampy and bloated feeling was proving to be a total nuisance. I was diapered under my tan joggers, but there was no way I wanted to walk home with a load in my pants.

Deciding it was best to take care of my discomfort, I decided to start for home. As I walked through the park, the dull cramps in my stomach gave way to some soft gurgling. My body grew tense and I clutched my stomach through my soft black hoodie. Ugh, this was bad!

I felt a cold sweat break out across my brow as my steps grew uneasy. My muscles we’re beginning to clench and I suddenly felt my desperation growing. I was a champ at holding it; why was I freaking out?

I increased the speed of my careful, small steps. It felt like at any moment, my mess was going to make a swift exit into my seat. To make matters worse, I realized there was some kind of large gathering going on in the main park. I couldn’t turn back now. The fastest way out of the park was to quickly navigate through the crowd.

As I carefully and quickly weaved through the people, the desperation intensified. I could feel a warmth signaling that the load was ready to make an exit. My jaw tensed up and I drew in a breath. Just a few minutes and I would at least be out of the park.

Suddenly, someone bumped into me with enough force to knock my skateboard out of my arms. It was like slow motion. As I reached out for it, my concentration broke and my muscles unclenched.

As my board went crashing to the ground, my stanced bowed as a warm, sticky log forced it’s way out into my seat. The pressure caused it to mash into a sticky, muddy pile as more poop came churning out with a stream of loud crackling.

“Are you okay?” I didn’t even realize that the guy who bumped my board out of my hands had been watching me with a mixture of pity and hesitation on his face. I immediately felt the searing heat of embarrassment wash over my face as this guy watched me helplessly poop in my pants like a toddler. I silently nodded slowly and scrambled to crouch down to retrieve my board.

Crouching was a mistake. The mess intensified and the sticky, thick warmth spread and smeared across my seat. A slight scent wafted upward, but luckily my hoodie kept too much from wafting further.

“Unggghhh!” I gave a push and kept my eyes down to the ground. Crouching in my shameful state of filth, I couldn’t bear to look at the people staring at me. Overcome with embarrassment, I began to uncontrollably wet my diaper as well. I grabbed the front of my pants out if shock and gasped. The flood of sticky poop finally stopped, but it felt as if I had five pounds of warm fudge sitting in my diaper.

I quickly grabbed my skateboard and waddled away from the crowd. I knew that the back of my pants were bulging and sagging badly at this point. As I walked, the messy warmth mashed against my bottom and I felt myself instantly get hard. I felt ashamed and embarrassed at my reaction, which made me feel strangely hotter. Once I was out of sight from the crowd, I hid behind a dumpster and felt my seat.

The warmth was intoxicating and I sighed as I began to knead it slowly and heavily.

I would have to take care of the tent in my pants when I got home, preferably before cleaning up…

Sounds like she needed that

Due to Popular Demand

well…😖 Go see for Yourself JFF🤎

Samara & Taylor Mae: Wet Diaper Rubbing

“I'm really sorry I have to spank you baby, but you're wearing a messy diaper and the picture just isn't complete unless you're crying”

Can’t Sleep without a Thick Soggy Diaper between my legs >///<

Sub to my JFF 🤎

💖 20 Things This ABDL Babysitter Loves About Diaper Boys💖

1. The timid look on their faces when I tell them to lay down on the changing table and their facial expressions when I spread their legs, pull down their dirty diaper front, and giggle at their somehow always tiny wee-wee, while gagging on their pamper stink and making disgusted faces.

2. The sound of crotch snaps snapping on a cute baby blue onesie, snugly holding up a helpless diaper boy’s saggy pamper.

3. The way diaper boys move their hips and try to hide their little moans and grunts when I pull their new pamper front tight and start fastening the tabs. And the whimper they make when I make sure their pee-pees are pointing snugly downward in their fresh diaper.

4. How they blush and look down or away when I ask them how their diaper is doing when we are out in public.

5. The way a diaper boy's eyes look when he looks up at me from the changing pad while I'm putting a paci in his mouth and patting his pamper.

6. When they stand perfectly still and try to act casual while I check their diapers and adjust the diaper in back, making sure to sniff.

7. Their reaction to the loud crinkle of their wet diaper or a butt pat when we are out in public.

8. That blank “pee-pee” face boys make while doing a pee in their diaper and their happy relieved expressions afterwards.

9. How they can be so embarrassed but also so ready to put their old stinky pamper in the diaper pail like a good boy and the look on their face when I make them sniff it and then wave and say “bye-bye” to their poopy diaper before dropping it in the pail.

10. The sweet smell of lavender body lotion, baby powder, guy scent, and wet pamper.

11. How they give up all of their dignity and are totally humiliated and contrite but silently thankful for their babysitter and their clean soft pamper and safe crib at night.

12. That scared look in their eyes and their hands trying to cover up their pamps when I have a friend over and I’m babysitting a diaper boy loser.

13. The rush I get when a little one is almost asleep but wakes up because he realizes that his cold pamper is soaked and wants a diaper change right now. And the bigger rush I get from letting him wait in his soggy cold and eventually poopy pamper, crying like a real toddler, while I watch on the baby monitor and calmly sip tea.

14. I love how diaper boys on social media ask me to watch them while they poop in their pamper. Even though it’s in private in a locked room and just for me and the camera, I can sense their humiliation. It’s hot when they stop suddenly after making grunting sounds. How they shift awkwardly and make the most adorable scrunchy faces, knowing full well a woman on is watching them on a full length video camera zoomed in on their bulging pamper and blushy blank poo-poo face. And then when they look so proud after and waddle over to show me the sag and want to be praised, I love telling them that I’m glad I can’t smell their stanky loser butts and to get a life! Diaper boys are so needy!

15. I especially love when a cute diaper boy has had a laxative and then he is playing or watching television distractedly when, suddenly, he starts to fill his pamper without warning. I adore the loud sounds and his his face first expresses discomfort and then panic, as he starts to realize what is about to happen. So adorbs. But my fave thing is when they can feel themselves starting to poop their diaper, there is this cute blank face with fear building up, and an awareness that they are going to look so dumb helpless and are no match for the physical act and mess going on in their pamper.

16. I love it that these spoiled toddlers always want out of their wet and poopy diapers so they can go play or watch tv, only to complain and fuss when its diaper change time. I love teaching them that babies don’t decide when they get a new pamper.

17. I love the small grunts and eye bulging expressions when I strap them down on the changing table and rub their pamper like a metronome, edging them with an unstoppable rhythm until I hear that special whine. Then I walk away, with a bored look, and ignore them as I scroll on my phone, text, and talk to my besties. Repeat when bored :) No release. No mercy, as they get progressively more desperate.

18. The cute confused look and then gasping burst of energy when I give them a time limit to make diaper humpies. For example, twenty seconds on, ten seconds off, just to drive them crazy with frustration, till they almost make a sticky diaper. Then I make them beg and only then do I allow one more twenty second session. Their eyes stare like the world is about to collapse in on them, their heads droop, they don't seem able to vocalize clearly, they whimper and quiver their lower body, trying to finish in their pamp, they stammer and force out words that don't mean anything just like the babies they are. And if they manage to get a release in time I make them yell “baby make goo-goo!” It’s hilarious!

19. To see a sweaty panting diaper boy’s face redden with humiliation as he senses he might not be able to make stickies in time with his lil wee-wee contained inside double dry stiff diapers, no matter how fast and hard he humps, but he just keeps trying until the timer goes off, and then he whines like then immature crybaby that all diaper boys are.

20. Seeing them trying to squat without being noticed (failing, of course). I imagine their humiliation and desperation as they realize they will soon be stuck in a poopy diaper. I find it fascinating, and I just get a nice rush seeing it. This is one of my faves for sure, and I have spoken with other ladies who also mentioned how nice it is to see a diaper boy squatting like the helpless immature toddler he is and trying to stifle his grunts and farts while making an invariably silly, cranky, and guilty poo-poo face. Cute diaper guys squatting, making dumb scrunchy poo-poo faces, their hands on their hips, their pamper starting to droop, is the stuff dreams are made of for this diaper boy fangirl :) I always wonder what goes through their mind in that moment.

😳 😳 Uh oh

Got a cute Diapee Cover

And i might have quite the mess 🫣

Watch the Vid on my JFF 🤎