Helensissy91@gmail.com

But where are there diapers!?

This is the difference between a boy who’s accepted his reality and a boy who’s still holding out hope it’s a phase. It’s not. Accept yourself. Dress appropriately. Find yourself a real man and serve.

He doesn't let fags anywhere near His cock. He has plenty of chicks to take care of that. but He finds it funny to watch a pathetic queer loser slobber all over His feet after He's been walking around barefoot all day.

He’s even got the neighbors 23 year old son checking in with Him through text message several times a day to make sure His feet are clean enough. He usually just ignores the text, only responding when His feet are truly filthy; and in those instances the fag rushes over eagerly to devour the filth from the bottoms of His massive feet.

It all started as a joke. The little fag couldn’t stop staring whenever He’d kick His feet up on the porch, and the Man was starting to notice it. After noticing the fag’s staring a few times, the Man called out jokingly one tipsy night “why don’t you come over here and kiss them since you’re so captivated by them”

And the rest was history. He knew He had the bitch by the balls when he first walked up the stairs and leaned in to kiss His big, stinking feet. It wasn’t sexual for Him, but He did enjoy it in a non sexual way. Once the Man had the fag’s brain hooked on His feet, He ordered a small, cheap chastity belt off the internet and demanded the bitch put it on if he wanted to continue being allowed to worship. The fag, desperate to secure his place at His addicting feet, put it on without a second thought, and the Man kept the keys.

He never really told the fag, but He had absolutely zero intention of ever letting him free from his metal cage. It was so effortless, stealing the young fag’s sexuality from him at age 18, and then constantly dangling His feet in his helpless face. The bitch had asked a few different times to have it taken off, if only for 10 minutes, but the Man insisted that if He took it off He would have to move away and never let the fag see His feet again. He had complete control of his mind, making him stay at home living with his parents where it’s cheaper so that he could send more of his paycheck to Him. The fag lived on a very strict budget, ensuring that he could send as much money as possible to the Man next door who kept a close eye on his finances. It was the perfect win- extra money for doing nothing, the thrill of controlling another man, and there was something particularly amusing about watching his eyes glaze over whenever he would lick His feet. It was the only ‘sex’ the fag would ever know, and boy did he enjoy it!

The Man knew he would own this faggot for as long as He wanted to, and his parents didn’t seem to mind him living at home, so there was no foreseeable obstacle anywhere in the future. The Man smirked when His phone lit up beside Him on the table. “New Message from Forever Virgin”

‘Sir, may I please offer my cleaning services to You and Your perfect Feet?’ He clicked the reply button and lit up a joint, eagerly waiting for the sick little fuck to come in and serve his filthy purpose at the bottoms of His cruel and taunting feet.

When your friend on the opposing soccer team wins the game and knows you have a weakness for his feet, of course he’s going to rub his victory in your face with his them. Naturally showing you who the better alpha player is. Making you kiss the bottom of his cleats, removing them from his feet, and ordering you to give him a foot massage. Him rubbing his smelly soccer socks all over your face for a bit before telling you to remove them. Him sitting back as you sniff his warm, hot bare soles, kissing the bottoms of them in respect.  Eventually massaging the bottoms with your tongue against his soft pads and in between his toes. He sits back and relaxes proclaiming his victory over you, finally ordering you on the floor beneath him as he rests his feet on top of you. One pair of toes playing with your nose and tongue as the other plays with your hardon under your nylon shorts, not letting up until you can’t hold back any longer. 

im gay and want a boyfriend

reblog if you are also gay and want a boyfriend

Reblog if you going to put on a diaper today!

Or if you already done it=)

“I really don’t know what you see in that clown.” You regretted the words before you were even finished saying them. You wished you could grab them out the the air and stuff them back in your mouth. You didn’t need to wait for a reaction from your best friend since college, you knew each other well enough to read the look on her face. It didn’t help that she’d prefaced the lunch invitation by saying she had “big news” and was very clearly wearing a new ring on her left hand, though the topic hadn’t come up yet.

All the same, you felt your assessment was accurate. After all, you were the one who’d been dutifully sitting through her countless venting sessions about how her excessively outgoing boyfriend was constantly dragging her on “fun” dates in matching outfits to amusement parks, garishly themed novelty restaurants and any circus, magic show or fair that was happening less than two counties over. She didn’t need to tell you that she’d rather just stay home, chill and indulge in the introversion that’d you’d originally bonded over - you two shared a silent understanding that went deep enough to intuit that much.

You’ve never really understood why, but for as long as you’ve known each other, it’s the only kind of guy you’ve seen her go after - boisterous, outgoing and aggressively friendly men who’re just looking to settle down and raise a family. Sadly, you checked none of those boxes. You’d always been naturally shy and overly self-conscious, seemingly doing your best not to draw too much attention in life. All the same, you’d made more than a few failed attempts at making this more than a friendship over the years, only to be gently reminded that she just doesn’t "think of you that way.”

It was a shame - you really thought she could be the one to help you get past the overwhelming diaper fetish that had completely supplanted any interest in standard sex your whole life. You’d tried plenty of times to get into something more traditional, but all attempts so far had failed - some quite spectacularly. You told yourself that you just needed the right person to guide you, someone you could confess your unusual desires to and incorporate them until you got comfortable without them. You knew it was a pipe-dream, just something reassuring you’d tell yourself after another long session of scrolling through endless images of heavily padded men acting like giant toddlers, but it was hard to shake the pressure you felt to be more “normal” when comparing your love life to others.

A lifetime of hiding your childish cravings had left you uncomfortable with even the slightest hint of perceivable immaturity, and the distain you felt for your friend's lover was no doubt linked to a subconscious envy of his obliviousness to how much cringe-inducing attention he brought to himself in public, and how everyone seemed perfectly okay with it. You didn’t want to admit that you envied him, so it was easier to label him a “clown.”

“Hey kiddo, that’s no way to talk about your Daddy.” A familiar voice sprung up from the restaurant booth behind you, though with a firm and chastising tone you’d never heard before.

“Ugh, Sweetie, I thought we agreed that we were going to ease into this…” your friend said like she was looking right through you.

“I know, I know honey, but sometimes you just gotta jump into the pool!” the less than anonymous voice of her future husband replied.

“Okay, confession time.” Your best friend said while giving a stare that told you it was time to lock into every word that was about to come out of her mouth.

“If you think I haven’t been graciously putting up with your criticisms about my choice of partners for longer than I care to think about, baby-boy, you’ve got another thing coming. In spite of that, I’ve been out here looking for the best damn Daddy that this city has to offer for a long time now, and I won’t sit here and listen to my lil’ guy disrespects the father figure I’ve chosen for him! Please don’t think I don’t love you, sugar-plum, but a good Mommy knows not to put the cart before the horse!”

Suddenly, you felt a deeply painful pinch in your right ear. “I appreciate the history lesson, babe, but I think it’s time for a little less conversation and a little more action.” You followed the hand that seemed inescapably linked to your earlobe as it lifted you up out of the booth, past the kitchen and into the restaurant’s intimately small men’s room.

Effortlessly opening the latch on the baby chaining table with one finger, and letting it land with a heavy *thud* that was certainly not unnoticed by the occupant of the nearby stall, the man herby known as “Daddy” thrust you onto the molded plastic slab and undid your pants. “Well, I’ll give you an A for effort, Buster, but looks like we had a little accident. Did Daddy surprise you?" He poked at the notably damp Goodnite XXLs drooping between your legs. "Or did my sweet-pea just want to give me a sneak-preview of things to come?” He slid the soggy "underwear" down your quivering legs and opened the large bag on his hip.

“Sorry, small-fry, but I’ve got to check for myself.” He said before popping open a small bottle and squeezing a glistening substance into his hand. Despite his vigorous efforts, you remained limp and unaffected by the experience. “So far, so good. Okay, time for the real test.” He smirked, aggressively pulling a baby-print adult diaper from the bag and slowly unfurling it, meticulously fluffing it up and working out every possible “pop” it's plastic backing had to offer.

In no short order, and with no need for psychical manipulation, your little soldier was standing at full attention. “Aww, just as advertised!” He gave your throbbing manhood a quick, strangely platonic smooch that had a notable sense of paternal pride that you weren't sure how to react to.

“Oh, my foolish little clown..." he beamed before giving you a hard swat on the bottom "I'm going to have a LOT of fun with you!”

Now, you spend your weekdays indulging in your introversion while watching Bluey and snuggling with Mommy on the couch - trying your best not to think about the upcoming weekend with Daddy. Yet another weekend of singing silly songs on the way to hold hands at the grocery store, another weekend of getting your diaper changed in the movie theater bathroom, another weekend where you're told "It's okay, stinker, everyone gets to know..." when fielding deeply embarrassing questions about your lifestyle from perfect strangers in your stroller while wearing colorful matching outfits at amusements parks, theme restaurants and every circus, magic show or fair that your new Papa can find!

All but, 44,35,24

57 Ways to Humiliate a Sub Faggot

Humiliation is an important part of every faggot’s training. When a Man humiliates a faggot, He’s teaching him humility (a faggot must remain humble and not allow his ego to get in the way of his ability to serve and obey superior Men), respect (a faggot must learn to show appreciation and esteem to superior Men) and obedience (a faggot must learn to cede all control to superior Men). Plus, it’s just plain fun to embarrass or shame a faggot sometimes — and faggots exist to amuse as much as they do to serve.

Unfortunately, faggots have very little shame. Therefore, it can sometimes be difficult to imagine new ways to humiliate them. With that in mind, i’ve created a the following list of 57 ways for Men to humiliate Their faggots. Go forth, Men, and have fun playing with your subs!

Make him wear a butt plug and send him to the gym to workout — ensuring that he changes and showers in the locker room with the butt plug still in.

Cum on his face or in his hair, then send him out to run errands for You; make it clear that he’ll be severely punished if he returns and You discover that he’s wiped the cum off.

Call or text him at will and order him to piss his pants and send You a picture of it. If You do it when You know he’s out in public — at a bar, perhaps, or on the train during their evening commute home from work — even better.

Serve him his dinner in a dog bowl and make him eat it — sans utensils — kneeling like an animal on the floor next to You while You sit and eat Your dinner at the table like the Man You are.

Make him serve as a piece of furniture — a footrest, perhaps, or a coffee table on which people can set their drinks — during Your next party.

Make him address You as “Sir” in public. He should already be doing it in private, but addressing You that way in public will take Your power dynamic to a whole new level. To kick it up yet another notch, make him call You “Master.”

Outfit him with an ashtray mouth gag and station him on Your patio for smokers to use during Your next get-together.

Spontaneously order him to jerk off to completion in front of You or others in a random or inopportune time and/or place. Then, make him eat his load.

Forbid him from using the restroom for the day and make him wear a diaper, instead. Let him know you’ll be inspecting the diaper later, so he’d better make use of it.

Make him use the bathroom — piss and/or shit, Your choice — in front of You or others.

Perform an unannounced strip search and/or cavity check in an unexpected time or place — out at a bar, for instance, or in the parking lot when You’re out running errands.

Piss or cum into his food; make him eat it while You watch.

Forbid him to walk in front of You; faggots have to crawl on all fours.

Lock him in a cage naked during Your next party and let Your guests ogle at him like a zoo animal.

Dress him in slutty clothes and send him out in public to run errands for You.

Make him give himself an enema while You watch.

Make him use the urinal in a public mensroom with his pants around his ankles; or, if he has to shit, make him do so in a stall with the door wide open. Alternatively, or in addition, require that he always keep the door wide open when he’s using the bathroom at home.

Make him wear a leash and collar in Your presence. Or, even better, out in public.

Forbid him from making eye contact with You.

Handcuff him in public.

Make him kneel in a public restroom with the word “toilet” written on his forehead.

Lock his cock in a chastity device.

Lock his cock in a chastity device, then make him change at the gym, the swimming pool, the beach, etc., with the cock cage on.

Shave his head.

Shave all his body hair.

Scold him like he’s a little boy.

Reprimand him in public when he does something bad.

Spank him in public.

Write “faggot” on his face or body with suntan lotion, then take him sunbathing and let the sun “brand” him.

Make him wear a T-shirt out in public that says “i’m a faggot,” or “slave,” or “pussyboy,” or “cumdump.”

Put him in a timeout, standing naked in the corner facing the wall for a period of time.

Spit in his face — bonus if it’s a loogie — and make him keep it there to dry. Forbid him from wiping it off.

Take him to the bathhouse with messages like “breed me” or “i drink piss” or “cocksucker” written all over his body in permanent marker.

Next time he’s eating Your ass, rip a fart in his face.

Next time You take a dump, take Your finger — or even Your turd itself — and wipe a streak of shit on his upper lip. Demand that he wear Your shit mustache there all day.

Make him suck a dildo in a public place — in the car on the highway during rush hour, for example — so others can see.

Only allow him to use the bathroom outside, like a dog.

Make him eat things out of Your ass.

Gag him with Your cock until he pukes, then make him lick up his vomit.

Make him sleep on the floor next to your bed, instead of in the bed.

Slap him. Hard.

Make him lick your shoes or boots — on command, in public.

Pee next to him at the urinal when You’re out and about; turn and face him so that You piss on him instead of in the urinal. Laugh, and make him walk around with Your piss all over him.

Make him wipe Your ass for You. Either with toilet paper, with his hand or with his tongue. All three are extremely humiliating.

Make him verbally recite a list of five, 10, 20 — whatever — things he loves and admires about You.

Cut or a rip a hole in the seat of his pants and send him out wearing them without underwear on underneath.

Give him an enema and then take him on a walk around the neighborhood with it still in. Make sure he’s wearing light-colored pants or shorts. Heheheh.

Make him flash his hole to strangers in the car on the highway, at a rest stop, or another location of Your choosing.

Whenever You need to use the toilet — at home or in public — escort him in with You and make him lick it clean for You so you have a pristine place to relieve Yourself.

Clip a clothes pin to his tongue and make him say “i am a faggot” 10 times until he’s drooling all over himself.

After you fuck him, hose him off naked in the yard like a dirty animal.

Make him approach a stranger and “confess” something dirty and embarrassing. Like, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and i like to sniff Men’s asses.” Or, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and my cunt is filled with cum right now.” Or, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and i drink piss.”

Make him make animal noises for You on command: “Bark like a dog!” Or, “Meow like a cat!” Or, “Show me what sound a pig makes!”

Make him clean his cunt every time he shits. Pre-mix a cleaning solution for him to use — Your piss, perhaps, mixed with some dish soap — and store it in a spray bottle labeled “fag bath” or “cunt cleaner.” Make him display this cleaner next to the toilet in his home, where any guests are sure to see it.

Take him into a photobooth and make him pose for pictures with Your cock in his mouth, then walk away and make him leave the pictures for the next patron to find — not knowing who will find them or what they’ll do with them.

Make him approach a stranger at a bar, in a bathroom or at a sex club and beg for their cock, piss or cum.

Make him dust Your home using a feather duster stuck up his ass.

The smell of french fries hung heavy in the air, a cruel irony considering my current predicament. The cardboard box felt flimsy in my hands, a pathetic shield against the growing dread. I should have known better, should have resisted, but the lure of McDonald's, and the promises, and the deal, was too powerful.

“Alright guys,” I said, my voice a mix of resignation and rising panic. "The diaper & drive-thru was one thing but using this thing is so gross and…" My words trailed off, the reality of my situation crashing down. My hand flew to my face, a desperate attempt to hide, to disappear from the lens of that phone.

"Wait what??!" I exclaimed, my voice rising in a desperate plea. "Hey delete that photo you promised you wouldn't take pics!" It was too late, the click of the shutter was a brutal confirmation of my exposure. I was trapped, caught in the act, a diapered mess holding a box of fries. The day has just taken a turn for the worse. I had been had.

My daddy makes me wear the thickest diapies

My big bro makes me wear thick plastic diapers, get big wet bulges, and hump my diapers until he tells me to cum! 🤤