Please Come Control Me With Those Soxks Make My Face Your Foot Rest Amd My Mouth Your Washing Machine

Baby seeking daddy

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The afternoon had been a perfect blend of easy conversation and soft laughter. His place was comfortable, a haven of familiar furniture and shared jokes. Then the door opened, and everything shifted, the easy-going atmosphere replaced with a silent tension that made my heart pound. His mother, a woman I had only met briefly, walked in, carrying a package that shattered my sense of normalcy. A package of diapers. I froze, my mind reeling.

The moment that she was in the room, I felt my world turn upside down. Was she really holding a package of Pampers?

“Oh, you are still here?” She asked him, a question that cut through me, like I was a stranger. It was then, that my heart really skipped a beat.

My eyes flicked to the package, the brightly colored label a stark contrast to the seriousness of her expression. She looked at me, and her smile felt too sweet. Almost predatory. Then she looked at him. Then back to me.

"Oh, these are for my little son," she said, her gaze lingering on me, too long. "He needs them you know." She looked at me again, her eyes piercing my soul, as she walked into the kitchen, and put them down. Then she came back to us. “He has a little bit of a problem, but you will understand soon.” It was a clear threat.

Then it happened. She looked at him, and asked: "Show her" His face paled, then he sighed, and slowly lifted his t-shirt, to reveal the telltale bulge. A huge, padded diaper was beneath. My jaw dropped. What was going on?

"Oh yes, it does seem like he does. Please put this new package away, and show your friend what you have been hiding," She added, as if it was just a passing thought. It was always so calm with her. Too calm.

I watched as he shuffled off to what I now understood was a diaper storage room, and I watched as he started to place his diapers on the highest shelves, as if this was a normal occurrence. It was then that I knew, that I had stumbled into something far more complex, something I wasn't sure I understood. And then I just saw him, as he came back to me, and I knew that I had to change my view of him. He was something else. He was something more.

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In the quiet confines of my dimly lit apartment, I stood before the mirror, my reflection a distorted echo of the man I had become. The image staring back at me was not my own but that of Vaughn, my coworker, whose physique and life I had coveted with a burning envy.

The opportunity to enact my plan came unexpectedly one Friday evening after work. Vaughn was in the office gym, his usual post-work routine of lifting weights and showcasing his physique. I had prepared the serum in a small syringe hidden in my gym bag. As he finished his set and was stretching, I approached him with a friendly smile, holding a protein shake in one hand.

"Hey Vaughn, I made this new protein shake recipe. Want to try it out? I think you'll love the results," I offered, feigning camaraderie. He looked at me, a bit surprised but intrigued, and nodded. As he took the shake from my hand, I quickly moved behind him, pretending to adjust the weights. In one swift motion, I plunged the needle into the side of his neck, the serum entering his bloodstream before he could react.

Vaughn's eyes widened in shock, his hand reaching for his neck, but it was too late. The serum worked fast, his body beginning to tremble as I stepped back, watching the process unfold. "Sorry, Vaughn," I whispered, "but I need this more than you do."

His body started to deflate, the muscles losing their definition as if the air was being let out of a balloon. His skin sagged, becoming loose and pliable, his once proud physique collapsing in on itself. Within minutes, what stood before me was not the muscular, confident Vaughn, but a hollow shell of his former self, his skin now a suit ready to be worn.

With a mixture of awe and excitement, I approached the deflated form. Carefully, I began the process of donning his skin. I started with his feet, sliding my own into the empty space, feeling the warmth of his skin enveloping mine. I worked my way up, pulling the skin over my legs, feeling the strength of his muscles now mine as I adjusted them to fit perfectly. His torso was next, the sensation of his abs and chest wrapping around me was surreal, a perfect fit as if tailored for me.

As I reached his face, I paused, looking into the empty eyes of what was once Vaughn. "I had no idea what package you were hiding under those pants." I said to the empty shell, a smirk playing on my lips. I pulled the skin over my head, adjusting it around my features until I was looking through his eyes, feeling his beard on my chin.

Finally, I stood fully transformed, adjusting to the new muscles, the new face. "But now, it's mine. All of it. Your strength, your charm, and yes, even this body," I continued, speaking to my reflection as if he could hear me.

I ran my hands down the toned abs, feeling the power that now belonged to me. The thought of what I could do with this new identity was intoxicating. "Imagine the possibilities," I mused, my voice still adjusting to the deeper timbre of Vaughn's. "An account on TikTok? Nah, too mainstream. Instagram? Overdone. But an account on... Onlyfans?" A wicked grin spread across my stolen face.

The idea thrilled me. Vaughn had a following, built from his gym posts, his lifestyle shots, always tastefully done, always leaving people wanting more. But now, I could take it further, push the boundaries, explore the depths of this new persona. I'd document the journey, the transformation, the life I had stolen.

I felt a rush of excitement as I thought about the content I could create, the allure of this new skin I wore. "You would've never thought about doing this, Vaughn," I said, almost apologetically to the reflection. "But I will. I'll make this life something extraordinary, something that will make them all jealous."

In my new voice, with my new body, I began to plan. The mirror reflected my ambition, my new identity, and the life I was about to live. Vaughn was gone, and in his place stood someone new, someone ready to take the world by storm, one subscriber at a time.

And as I stepped away from the mirror, I felt no remorse, only anticipation for what was to come. "Welcome to your new life, Vaughn," I whispered, knowing full well that it was now mine.

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Reblog if you want  ‘Diaper Checks’ or ‘Stop, Drop, and Potty’ asks

*Make sure your anonymous asks are on* Diaper Checks: -Anyone can send one at any time -If you get an ask that says “Diaper check!” or similar, you must reblog with the status of your pants or diaper, no cheating and no exceptions. Alternatively, If you get an ask that says “Stop, Drop, and Potty” you must go to the bathroom in whatever you are wearing the moment you see the message, as you would with a CG.  This is harder than it sounds! Only for wearers up to the challenge and the embarassment!

I really am and do

thanks to League of Padding for this great pic and the “reblog if…” caption suggestion to go with it! you can submit your’s too, here.