Mistmane56 - DoubleDiaperedthem17

Picture source: anonymous

"You lost our bet, so now you are mine for a month." Danny spoke while pointing his socked foot towards his tiny friend on the floor.

Greg had made a bet with Danny on who was stronger. The loser would get shrunken down to size and belong to the winner for a month as his toy. Danny completely bet him in the weight class, showing that he was much stronger than him. He reluctantly admitted defeat and let himself get shrunken down to just 3" tall.

"I know I lost our bet. But it's only for one month anyway." Greg spoke, wishing he had won. Looking up at his friend's giant foot made him feel extremely small.

"It might not be as much fun for you, though." Danny smiled. "Some time in my shoe under my foot might having you wish you were stronger." He laughed as he reached down and picked up tiny Greg. He dangled him over his shoe and then dropped him in. He tilted his shoe so that he was at the toe end.

Greg saw the massive socked foot coming towards him, blotting out the last of light he could see. There was no way out as massive socked toes covered him and began to play with him by flipping him over and over.

Danny found it a little fun playing with his friend as a tiny toy under his toes. He could tell it really was going to be a fun month for him. He might have to bring his toy to every work or wherever he is wearing any of his shoes, for that matter.

My size 15 feet #guys in socks #male socks #smelly socks #nylonsocks #vintage #Patternednylonsocks

Can someone do this to me

James' heart pounded in his chest as he heard the doorbell ring. He glanced at his wife, Jessica, who wore a mischievous grin. "Remember, behave like a good little baby," she whispered, her voice dripping with seductive intent.

Jessica opened the door to reveal Jennifer, the 21-year-old babysitter they had hired for the night. She was a petite brunette with an innocent face, but her eyes held a glint of mischief that matched Jessica's.

"Hello, Jennifer," Jessica said, her voice taking on a motherly tone. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Unfortunately little James here can’t be trusted to stay home alone."

Jennifer nodded, her eyes flicking to James, who was dressed in nothing but a diaper. His face burned with embarrassment, but his manhood stirred beneath the soft fabric.

"I understand," Jennifer said, her voice barely hiding a smirk. "I'll take good care of him."

Jessica leaned in, her lips brushing against Jennifer's ear. "He likes to be teased," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. "And he has a bit of a... wetting problem."

Jennifer's eyes widened, but she nodded, understanding the game. Jessica gave her a knowing smile before turning to James. "Be good for Jennifer, baby," she said, her voice dripping with mock concern.

As Jessica left, James felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine. He was alone with Jennifer, at her mercy. He could already feel the wetness spreading in his diaper, the humiliation and arousal mixing into a potent cocktail.

Jennifer led him to the nursery, her hand firm on his arm. "I could tell when I arrived you already need a fresh diaper, don’t you baby?” She pushed him onto the changing table, expertly unfastening the tapes of his soaking wet diaper and exposing his erect member.

“Someone's excited," Jennifer teased, her fingers brushing against his hard length. James moaned, his face burning with embarrassment. Jennifer chuckled, her fingers tracing lazy circles around his tip.

She cleaned him up, her touch gentle yet firm. Grabbing a fresh diaper from the drawer, she places it under his bum, liberally applying baby powder and securely fastening the tapes.

Jennifer admired her work and couldn’t help but notice how cute James looked in his babyish garment, it even said ‘Pampers’ along the front, just like a real baby diaper!

“Now, does baby want his bottle?" she asked, her voice dripping with fake innocence. James nodded, his face flushed with desire.

Jennifer prepared a bottle, her movements slow and deliberate. She sat down on the rocking chair, pulling James onto her lap. He took the bottle, his mouth closing around the nipple.

Jennifer's hand snaked into his diaper, her fingers wrapping around his hard length. James moaned, his body tensing as she began to stroke him. The sensation of her hand inside his diaper, the humiliation of being treated like a baby, it was all too much.

He came with a muffled groan, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Jennifer chuckled, her hand slowing to a stop. "Good baby," she cooed, her voice filled with satisfaction.

James lay in her arms, his body spent. He could feel his diaper growing heavy, the wetness spreading. He blushed, his heart pounding in his chest.

Jennifer stood up, carrying him to the crib. She laid him down, her fingers tucking him in. "Sleep tight, baby," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth.

As James drifted off to sleep, he could hear Jessica returning. He could hear their whispers, their laughter. He knew they were talking about him, about his little... accident.

He blushed, his body tensing at the thought. He was embarrassed, yes, but he was also excited. He couldn't wait for the next time.

Jessica entered the nursery, her eyes softening as she looked at James. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. "You were a good baby tonight," she whispered, her voice filled with pride.

James blushed, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he had pleased her, and that was all that mattered. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face.

The next morning, James woke up to find Jennifer gone and Jessica standing over him. She was dressed in a silk robe, her hair tousled from sleep. "Did you have a good night, baby?" she asked, her voice filled with amusement.

James blushed, his body tensing at the memory. He nodded, his face burning with embarrassment. Jessica chuckled, her hand reaching out to stroke his cheek. "Good," she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. "Because we're doing it again next weekend."

James' heart pounded in his chest, his body already tensing with anticipation. He knew he was in for another night of humiliation and pleasure. And he couldn't wait.

“Oh, and Jennifer mentioned she might even bring a friend this time”

[id: a light blue userbox with a pastel blue border, and pastel blue text that reads “this user loves things intended for babies & children.” on the left is an image of a baby bear calico critter. /end id]

No mommies or FINDOM!!

Diapered 24/7 OR ELSE!

Trap me in diapers this thick every day. No potty or chance of escaping. Punished, fined, blackmailed and exposed! Locked in chastity and monitored constantly. Strict rules and turned into a squirming diaper brain submissive. Always horny, always wet, always frustrated. Privacy removed, orgasms denied. Forced fed bottle after bottle, tummy as full as my pampers. Diapers diapers diapers diapers diapers diapers.

Releasing ABDL Shame

I recently got a private message on Fetlife from a new guy-friend who, like me and so many others have, is struggling with the guilt and shame of having ABDL interests, particularly in light of his outward masculinity.  I thought I would repost my advice here in case it can be of any help to our Tumblr friends… while we aren’t by any means experts on shame or self-care, I thought perhaps my thoughts could help others.

—

For me, there have been a couple of core concepts that have helped me release that shame and guilt. I’ll share them here in full knowledge that these aren’t the kinds of things that seep in overnight: it took me a couple of years to deeply internalize them, and even today I have to remind myself at times that I lose self-compassion or feel threatened. So, be kind to yourself… this kind of self-integration is a process, and by reaching out to others you have started it brilliantly. Kudos for your bravery!

Everyone is masculine and feminine.

Seriously, we all contain both of these energies and their requisite traits in spades. Our culture tells us a lot about how we should feel, how each gender should act, etc., but most of it is polarized nonsense for the sake of quick characterization. (One researcher refers to it as a “social role heuristic,” basically a shortcut to understand where we fit in the pecking order). For a couple hundred millennia, males have been depended upon to be bigger, physically stronger, hunt, etc., and females have been depended upon to bear and nurse children, gather provisions, nurture community support, etc., and our cultural standards have developed around these necessities. Unfortunately, we have also lumped a whole lot of psychological concepts into these functional realities as our societies have gotten more complex and our ability to abstract has improved. So big/strong/independent has turned into a role and bear/gather/nurture has turned into a role which eventually turned into a set of beliefs which eventually turned into our concept of gender.

All that to say, you are both. You are strong and independent and tough and assertive. You are also soft, open, in need of love, tender, small, and weak. Both are true, and neither requires the other to go away in order for itself to exist. As Walt Whitman famously wrote, “I am large. I contain multitudes.” I go to work, I make command decisions, sometimes I guide millions of dollars and hundreds of jobs with my choices… and when I come sometimes I want to get diapered and taken care of, and both are equally awesome. Neither requires the other one to go away in order to be true. You need to be taken care of, just like everybody else, and don’t let the business suit or power play trick you into thinking you need to polarize. You don’t. Go kick ass during the day, come home and Little-out at night. Or vice versa. You are contain multitudes.

You are not broken.

Man, this is the crux of it. Sexuality is impossibly complex, and it exists at such a fundamental level in our brain development and evolution… it pre-dates conscious thought, and our conceptualizations of our sexuality are merely best-guesses at trying to characterize something wholly abstract and base-functioning.

To think of sexualities, regardless of how culturally deviant, as being character flaws or mistakes is to miss how sexuality works. If you don’t believe me, look at the NIH-funded studies that demonstrated how easy it is to create a lemon fetish in rats. Are these rats morally corrupt? Are they broken? Are they perverts? Are they broken? Nope… their sexual development happened to overlap with a sensory stimulus and they ended up with a fetish. Awesome. Anybody got any guesses on why men are attracted breasts? Yup. Because that’s how that works.

There is nothing wrong with you. There never was. Your sexuality may be different than most people you know, but it’s not broken.  There is no normal sexuality, and I guarantee that you are surrounded by dozens of men and women at work who have sexual fetishes, bizarre interests, turn-ons and practices that they work hard to hide from the world.

You deserve to try to be happy.

The pursuit of happiness is, as the US Declaration of Independence so eloquently puts it, an inalienable right. I think it’s an inherent trait; a motivational force built into each of us in some degree that drives behavior. So goddamnit, if something makes you happy and you can do it without violating others’ right to their pursuit of happiness, go after it. Few things make me as happy as diapering my wife, and few things make me feel as loved as being diapered. So I’m going to do it a lot; it’s fantastic. If I’m not doing it enough, I’m going to create time, and if I find I’m doing it too much, I’ll back it off, as it isn’t actually making me happy. Your pursuit of something that makes you happy isn’t just nice, it’s essential to embracing your own beautiful humanity. So fucking run after it; find your thing, and do it a lot. If your partner isn’t game, that’s OK… he/she doesn’t have to be, and he/she has a right to pursue happiness too, and you guys can work out how that will work for you. Pursuing happiness is part of valuing your own humanity; if you would want it for a friend, you can want it for yourself.

Let shame teach you, then let it go.

Shame and fear researcher Brenè Brown says it better than I ever could in her TED talk on shame:

“In surviving this last year, I was reminded of a cardinal rule — not a research rule, but a moral imperative from my upbringing — “you’ve got to dance with the one who brung ya”. And I did not learn about vulnerability and courage and creativity and innovation from studying vulnerability. I learned about these things from studying shame. And so I want to walk you in to shame. Jungian analysts call shame the swampland of the soul. And we’re going to walk in. And the purpose is not to walk in and construct a home and live there. It is to put on some galoshes — and walk through and find our way around.”

It’s OK to feel it.  It’s OK really dislike that feeling, too.  But let it teach you; let it tell you about your beliefs and your contradictions without judging yourself for feeling those things.  Then, when you’re ready, choose to begin to step out of it.  Avoiding shame (like avoiding any feeling) just compresses it into a more potent version of itself, and it comes out in dark and unpredictable ways.  Don’t try *not* to be shameful, but rather ask what it teaches you about yourself, then choose to replace shame with compassion as you walk out of the swamp.

I hope this is helpful, and I’m really glad you reached out; that moment of vulnerability is a moment of profound creative and renewing energy.

My Best,

RY