Oh Sweet Boy, You Have No Idea How Much Mummy Needs You.

Hmm. Ask you anything you say?! Please will you be my Mummy. And take away my autonomy as an adult and put me back in nappies permanently?

Oh baby,

Both you and I know it's where you belong.

I can't wait for my pretty slut to get home so I can make him eat my pussy while I play with his hair and tell him he's a good boy.

Him crying, "I'm yours, I'm yours," as he goes over the edge

Oh, sweetheart, come here. Let me hold you for a moment.

I can see that something’s weighing on your little heart, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be happy all the time. You don’t have to push your feelings away or pretend they’re not there. It’s okay to feel sad, or angry, or scared. Feelings can be big and heavy sometimes, but you don’t have to carry them all on your own.

I’m right here, love bug. No matter what you’re feeling, I will always be here. You don’t have to explain, you don’t have to fix anything—you can just be, exactly as you are. If you need to cry, I will hold you close. If you need to stomp your little feet, I will be right here to keep you safe. If you need quiet, I will sit beside you and hold your hand so you know you’re not alone.

You are so precious, just as you are, in every feeling, in every moment. Your emotions don’t make you too much, and they don’t make you bad. They just mean you are you, and that is the most wonderful thing in the whole world.

So take all the time you need, my angel. I will love you through every feeling, every storm, and every quiet moment in between. I will be here, always, with open arms and an open heart, ready to give you whatever you need.

You are never alone, little one. You are safe. You are cherished. And you are oh-so deeply loved.

*Types into pornhub* porn where man is pegged but it's like love and you can tell they're in love and that they're being cared for and that they're not forced to do this and that they enjoy and and not in pain with kissing and holding hands and-

The warm glow of candlelight flickered against the tiled bathroom walls, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. The air smelled of lavender and vanilla, mixing with the faint, powdery scent that always seemed to linger around Little. Mommy reclined in the tub, the water embracing her as she exhaled a slow, contented sigh. After a long, busy week, this was her moment to unwind.

But tonight was special. Tonight, she had company.

Just a few feet away, sprawled out on his tummy with crayons scattered around him, Little hummed to himself. He had been so proud when Mommy had told him he’d earned this treat—staying up late, coloring beside her while she took her bath. His little feet wiggled behind him, clad in the soft, footed pajamas she had picked out, the ones covered in tiny duckies. The familiar bulge of his thick nighttime diaper peeked out as he squirmed, a telltale sign that he had soaked it but hadn’t yet noticed, too lost in his colorful world.

Mommy watched him, her heart swelling. His pacifier bobbed slightly as he babbled around it, mumbling half-formed thoughts about his day at daycare.

“An’ then, an’ then, Miss Katie say I share really good! I let Sammy have my blocks even when I was still usin’ dem!” He turned his head to look at her, his wide, proud eyes meeting hers. His paci slipped slightly, revealing a delighted, slightly drooly smile.

Mommy smiled back, warmth spreading through her chest. “That was very kind of you, sweetheart. I bet Sammy was really happy.”

Little nodded so hard his curls bounced. “Mhm! Miss Katie said I’m the bestest sharer today!” He went back to his coloring, his brows furrowing in concentration as he pressed a blue crayon hard against the paper.

Mommy took a sip of her wine, watching him, savoring the simple joy radiating off him. He was so innocent, so pure, completely immersed in his little world. His diaper crinkled as he shifted, making the slightest squish, and she knew he’d wet it again. She could have pointed it out, but she didn’t. Not yet. He was so engrossed in his art, his little legs kicking lazily behind him, his tiny fists wrapped around the chunky crayons. There was no rush.

“Whatcha drawing, baby?” she asked, her voice thick with affection.

He lifted his paper, beaming. “It’s us! You in da tub, an’ me colorin’ an’… an’ Teddy’s here too!” He jabbed a chubby finger at the brown blob that was undoubtedly his favorite plush bear.

Mommy chuckled. “It’s beautiful, my love. Can I keep it when you’re done?”

His eyes widened, as if the honor of having his artwork kept forever was too much to handle. He nodded vigorously. “Yuh-huh! You can put it on da fridge!”

She reached out, her wet fingers brushing over his soft hair, ruffling it gently. He nuzzled into her touch instinctively, his cheeks flushing pink.

For a while, there was only quiet. The gentle slosh of water as Mommy adjusted herself, the occasional scrape of a crayon on paper, and the muffled suckling sounds of his paci. Every so often, he’d glance up at her, just to make sure she was still there, still watching over him. Every time, she met his gaze with the same soft smile, reassuring him without words.

After a few minutes, Little squirmed again, this time more obviously. The way his bottom pressed down made the squishy wetness of his diaper all the more noticeable, and he finally registered it. He let out a small, surprised gasp and sat up, reaching down to poke at the front of his sleeper. His big, round eyes flicked up to Mommy, searching her face.

She arched a knowing brow. “Feeling squishy, baby?”

A tiny whimper bubbled past his pacifier, his cheeks turning redder. He nodded. “Uh-huh…”

Mommy tilted her head, taking another sip of her wine as she let him stew in his own shyness for just a moment. He was always like this—realizing he’d wet himself, then feeling bashful about it. But she loved how he never complained, never whined for a change. He accepted it, just like a good boy should.

“Don’t worry, lovebug,” she murmured. “We’ll get you all fresh before bed.”

Little wiggled his toes, clearly comforted by her calmness. He shifted again, settling back onto his knees, the padding beneath him squishing audibly. “M’okay,” he mumbled, turning back to his coloring.

Mommy let out a soft, fond sigh. How could one person be so precious?

Minutes passed, and the bathroom remained their little sanctuary. The flickering candlelight danced across the bubbles in her tub, the warmth of the water soothing her tired muscles. But more than anything, it was the presence of her Little that made this night feel so perfect.

She watched as he stretched his arms high above his head, letting out a tiny yawn. His paci wobbled in his mouth, and his chubby fingers rubbed at his sleepy eyes. The long day, the excitement, the warmth of the bathroom—all of it was beginning to weigh on him.

Mommy smiled, setting her empty wine glass on the bath tray. “Getting sleepy, sweetheart?”

Little blinked slowly, his pacifier bobbing as he nodded. “Mhm…” he whispered. “But… but I don’ wanna go yet. I like bein’ wif you.”

Her heart squeezed, and she reached out again, letting her fingers brush over his soft cheek. “I like being with you too, my love,” she murmured. “But you’ve had such a big day, and it’s almost bedtime.”

Little’s lip wobbled, just slightly, before he buried his face into his teddy bear. Mommy knew that look—he wanted to be a good boy, wanted to listen, but he also wanted just a little more time with her.

“Tell you what,” she said softly, running her fingers through his curls, “why don’t we go get you changed into a fresh diapee, and then I’ll tuck you in nice and cozy? You can even have an extra bedtime story.”

His sleepy eyes brightened. “Two stories?”

She nodded. “Two whole stories.”

That was all it took. Little pushed himself up on wobbly legs, stretching his arms toward her, a silent request.

Mommy chuckled. “Baby, I’m still in the bath.”

He pouted behind his paci, then let his arms drop. “Oh… I wait den.”

Her heart swelled. So patient. So sweet.

She finished up quickly, draining the tub and wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. Little stood by the door, rubbing his eyes with a balled-up fist, shifting his weight from foot to foot as his damp diaper sagged just a little lower.

She scooped him up without hesitation, cradling him against her. He let out a sleepy sigh, nuzzling against her neck, his paci moving in slow, rhythmic sucks.

“Such a good boy,” she whispered, kissing his forehead as she carried him to the nursery.

And as she laid him down, fresh and clean in his softest pajamas, she knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Guided masturbation is so much fun, especially when your sub obeys your every single word. Watching them work themselves up, moaning and begging you to let them go faster or please, please touch them is fun. Asking them if they’re close, how close and if they want to cum for you like a good puppy. Then telling them they’re not allowed, to stop moving their hands and stop bucking off the bed.

When they’re so wet and horny and ready to cum but they don’t because they want to be good for you is so much fun. The whine in their voice when they beg, the red of their bitten lips, the tremble of their thigs and catch in their throat when you make them do it all over again. Oh it’s so much fun.

Diapers Are You: Truth, Acceptance, and Becoming Whole

You have always known. The quiet tug in your chest when you saw them. The pulse of longing that never faded. The way your mind wrapped around the thought of them even when you tried to let it go. You may have told yourself it was a habit, a fantasy, a quirk of your desires. But it has always been more than that. It has been truth.

Diapers are not something you chose. They are something that has always been part of you. Maybe you hid from it. Maybe you tried to push it away, stuffing it into the corners of your life where no one would see. Maybe you spent years wondering if you could live without them, if you should live without them. But the answer was always waiting in the silence.

There is a reason you feel at home when you wear them. A reason you crave their presence, their thickness, their softness, their security. A reason the thought of being without them stirs something uneasy inside you. Because diapers are not just something you put on. They are something you are.

And yet, for so long, you may have resisted. You may have believed the world’s voice over your own. You may have thought that denying this truth would make it disappear. But truth does not vanish. It lingers. It waits. It returns in dreams, in quiet moments, in the way your body aches for what it has always known. The only question is whether you will accept it.

Acceptance is not about giving in. It is about becoming whole. It is about recognizing that you were never broken, never wrong, never something to be fixed. The world taught you to doubt yourself, to second-guess your desires, to believe that something so deep and undeniable must be unnatural. But the world was wrong. There is nothing more natural than aligning with who you truly are.

Diapers are not just an object. They are identity. They shape the way you move, the way you think, the way you feel safe and seen. They are the rhythm of your body, the embrace of comfort and surrender, the language of something deeper than words.

Because diapers are not separate from you. They are you.

So stop resisting. Stop second-guessing. Stop thinking of this as something outside yourself, something you allow or deny. Take hold of what you have always known. Let it settle into your bones. Let it become as natural as breath, as certain as gravity, as undeniable as your own reflection.

You are not indulging. You are not escaping. You are becoming. And you have always been.

He knows he isn’t meant to do it but he really wants to. He glances at the couch and then back at the doorway. He can hear his girlfriend moving pots and pans around in the kitchen but he can’t see her. He gets closer to the couch and finally ducks down and crawls behind it, into that little space between the backrest and the wall.

He squats with one hand on the textured wall and the other around his knees. A little bit of sunlight is coming down from the window, warming his head. He’s already peeing, in little spurts every few seconds when he shifts his legs. It feels so good. He closes his eyes and pushes a little bit.

It feels so good. He keeps pushing, diaper expanding. He can feel drool dripping out of the corner of his mouth as he hums to himself. “Mmmm, mmmm…” He can’t help it. It feels so good. One hand snakes into the front of his diaper. He touches his tip delicately with one finger. Unf, he needs to keep touching himself. He inches his hand deeper into his diaper, as far as it will go against the taut elastic, cupping himself. He starts to rock against his hand as he keeps pushing.

He barely registers a voice calling from somewhere above him, somewhere outside his little paradise behind the couch. “Baby boy? Where are you? Do you want to watch a show with me?”

Footsteps and the couch shuffles above him. He doesn’t really notice. “Mmmfm. Mmm…”

Then he feels long hair falling against his head. He slowly opens his eyes.

“What you doing?” she giggles.

He fumbles for a second, hand retracting from his diaper. It takes a second for his mouth to shape words. “N-nothing!!”

“Come here,” she says. She doesn’t sound angry. He stands up, bumping his shoulder awkwardly against the back of the couch. She coaxes him out. “I thought you were having accidents. It doesn’t really look like an accident when you’re hiding behind the couch and pooping yourself, baby.”

He’s still so turned on that his knees are weak. Words aren’t forming in his head and getting to his mouth. “Um, uh, um…”

“Let’s go to the bathroom. That’s the appropriate place to go potty.” She takes his hand and leads him down the hallway.

He stands awkwardly next to the toilet.

“Do you need to go poop more?”

“Uh-huh,” he says.

“Okay, just go in your diaper. There’s no use going in the toilet now. No, no, not when you’re standing. I want to see you do that cute little squat again. Is that how you normally go? Do you sneak away and do this on purpose all the time? And then come up to me with tears in your eyes.” She puts on a mocking, but annoyingly good impression of his voice. “‘Mommy, I had an accident…’” She snorts. “You’re a good actor.”

He’s staring at the tile floor so hard it feels like his eyes are going to touch it. He’s pushing. The last bit is tough to get out. His pants feel really heavy and wet now. He’s using so much willpower not to touch himself in front of her.

“What, nothing to say to that?” She squats down on his level. He raises his head a little and his field of vision is filled with her legs, skirt falling neatly on either side of her muscular thighs, and a little bit of her undies peeking through.

“Unff,” he moans.

“I saw you touching yourself,” she says. “You must really like this. You like hiding and pooping yourself, huh? Don’t you?” She’s petting his hair. His face feels hot. His whole head feels hot. His brain must be melting. He hears a little patter and looks down to see a long rope of drool has dropped from his mouth and splattered on the floor.

“All done?” She draws his head to her chest, still stroking his hair.

“Uh-huh,” he manages to gasp.

“I don’t think you are, yet. Are you, honey? You need a big change. Do you want to do changes here or in the bedroom?”

He just shakes his head.

“Let’s just do in here. Lie down, baby boy. There you go. That’s a good boy.”

No towel, no change mat, nothing. He’s just lying on the cold bathroom floor as she eases his pants down and untapes his diaper. He’s enamored by the sound of the tapes, the wet smack of the full diaper hitting the floor, the cold feeling of the wipes…he starts wiggling involuntarily, hands running over his face and down his neckline, across his collarbones and shoulders.

“Baby can’t contain himself, can he?” She trails a finger from the bottom of his erection to the top. “Look at how hard you are. You can’t hide that. It’s like a flag pointing straight up. It’s like a signal. And it’s all blush pink, just like your face. It’s saying, look at how much baby boy enjoys this!”

He starts whining, no words, just little noises, covering his face with his arms. She slooooowly snakes her fingers around his shaft. And then she starts jerking him off, really fast, almost too fast after all the build-up.

He moans and he can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain. She’s doing this like it’s maintenance, like she just wants him to cum. He does, everywhere, all over her hand and his pelvis and a little bit on his sweater and tummy.

“Aww, what a mess. You need a shower, don’t you? You need a shower and a fresh diaper. And then I think you need to go to bed a little early. That was an exciting day.”

Under the cold water of the shower he starts to feel himself “coming to”. Like waking up from deep sleep or a weird drug trip. “Mommy, I mean, Jenna, I think I’m okay now. I don’t think I need to go to bed. I think I should get a little work done before I go into the office tomorrow, actually. I mean—it’s still light out!”

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. I can tell what you really want. We’re going to have some pasta for dinner and then you’re going to get really cozy in bed. We changed the sheets after you leaked this morning, remember? So it’ll be really fresh and cozy.”

He starts to argue but falters. “O-okay.” She’s right. She knows what he really wants.