Things changed fast under the Trump MAGA administration. All gay equal rights bills on the federal, state and local levels were rescinded overnight. Straight Men were encouraged to bully and harass faggots though government public service announcements on television. They even went so far as to suggest that Straight Men using faggots as slave labor, or any other type of slavery, would be treated with a "turned head" by the government. So there you were, in this guy's apartment having your face used as his footstool for his sweaty smelly socked feet, worn through several workouts. You were just buying a coffee at Starbucks when he came up to you and grabbed your arm and said come with me faggot. You knew what was now happening all over the country to faggots like you and you knew you had no recourse if he beat you up. You thought he probably could kill you and no one would do anything. So you ended up at his apartment, cleaning it at his command from top to bottom, then having your face used as his footstool for his stinking dirty workout socked feet. You just laid there quietly with their stink and heavy weight on your face, hoping that nothing worse would happen to you as the hours went by.
Mommy knows there are many ABDL/DL cuties that are disguised in “vanilla-land”. You are free to be baby with this QUEEN Mommy! 🎈🦋💓👼
I want to be treated like a little boy.
I want you to help me pick out what to wear, and put on my clothes.
I want you to ask me if I have to potty, because little boys don’t always remember to stop when they’re playing.
I want you to ask me which superhero is on my underwear today, and wonder out loud whether they’ll have to fight the Evil Pee Monster.
I want you to check and make sure that my pants aren’t wet every so often.
I want you to gasp loudly and say, “uh-oh!” when you find I couldn’t stay dry.
I want you to take me by the hand to go change into something dryer, and more appropriate.
I want you to gently but firmly make me put on my pull-ups that you brought with against my protests.
I want you to reassure me that it’s ok to have accidents sometimes, that’s just what little boys do.
I want you to give me my paci to calm me down when I fuss about my new, thicker underwear.
I want you to help me take my pants off so you can check my pull-ups when we get home.
I want you to ask me when my pull-ups got wet ,and how, and why didn’t I say anything to you.
I want you to take me over your lap when I admit I didn’t even try to make it to the potty.
I want you to pull down my wet pull-ups and spank me while commenting on how disappointed you are that I don’t seem to care about not going pee pee in my pants.
I want you to hold me close, and gently rub my red bottom and tell me it’s ok while I cry softly into your chest.
I want you to stand up and tell me that it’s bedtime, and therefore diaper time.
I want you to drag me away while I protest that I don’t need diapers, and it’s still daylight outside.
I want you to ask me if I’ve already forgotten my sore bottom, since backtalk results in spankings.
I want you to lay me down on the diapers you laid out and powder and lotion my bottom.
I want you to tell me that I must be a very little boy indeed to still need diapers at my age.
I want you to ask me if I secretly wanted to be back in diapers when you see how turned on I’ve become.
I want you to tease me about my diapers getting wet during the night while you tape me securely into them.
I want you to give me my paci and cuddle me, and call me little one, and pat and rub my bottom while telling me that you don’t mind that I’m just a little boy, even when I’m naughty.
I want you to tell me that if I’m a good boy tonight and wet my diapers, maybe you’ll give me an extra special change only for really good boys in the morning.
I’m severely lacking in boys on my dashboard :( so I guess that means daddies can reblog as well
Plain breifs are the right underwear for a fag right?
The first thing he noticed was that he couldn’t move.
And then he heard his boyfriend's voice.
“Does this feel familiar?” he taunted.
He tried to speak up, but all that escaped was drool and a garbled noise.
“Aww poor baby, you can’t speak, can you?” His boyfriend's voice was laced with sweetness. But he was feeling anything but sweet at this moment.
He had made a critical error in his thinking. Just the other night his boyfriend had asked him if he had any kinks and he’d said no, deciding now was not the time to reveal his diaper fetish. He was scared that he’d recoil, move backwards or even break up with him.
But it turns out he had asked him because he knew.
he knew he wanted to be a helpless drooling baby. Wanted to become his plaything. Forced to sit in his bulging diaper until “daddy” came to change him.
“I guess you didn’t think I’d find out did you?” he sat on the bed next to him and patted the front of his bulging diaper. Strangely enough, he hadn’t remembered wetting it. But then he explained it to him.
“Last night I put a pill in your post workout shake. It reduces your body to that of an infant. No control over your legs, arms, anything really.” he continued to pat the front his heavy diaper as he tried to sit up, get any motion in his arms and legs. “The pill lasts 24 hours. And then all function returns. Oh and you can forget about bowel and bladder control.” he giggled.
“When I found out you wanted to be daddies helpless drooling baby, I decided to help you along for a bit. Now you can see what it’s really like.”
He tried to speak. Tried to tell him that this isn’t what he wanted. That it was only a game, a fetish. Something to do for fun. But he couldn’t speak, only drool escaped his mouth.
“Because you wanted this so badly, I put three pills in your drink, so that should give you about three days of fun baby time. Don’t worry, I know this weekend you wanted to hang out with the guys, but I know you’d much rather be doing this instead. So just lie there, I’ll bring you a new bottle every hour. Who knows.” he said grinning before shutting the door. “There might be another pill in there at the end of the weekend. I might want you to be my baby forever…”
The door shut and he gurgled some more. He was trapped…
(All characters are 18+)
Cameron Hayes was a high school senior with two things that defined him: his love for biology and his passion for nerdy hobbies. He’d always been the type of kid who spent his afternoons reading biology textbooks, obsessing over cellular processes, and analyzing ecosystems. At 18, he was already planning to study biology at a prestigious university, and his life revolved around his love for science. But that was before one fateful night.
It all started when Cameron sat down to finish his biology homework, which was supposed to be a simple review of basic human physiology. As usual, he’d spent hours studying the material the day before, and now it was just a matter of getting the homework done before bed. His room, decorated with posters of scientific breakthroughs and his collection of rare fossils, felt like his sanctuary.
On his desk lay his open notebook, the textbook, and his phone, all with the soft hum of a lamp glowing beside him. He breezed through the first few questions—simple stuff. His mind, sharp as ever, was in its element. But then came the last question. It looked innocent enough:
"What's one form of exercise?"
Cameron didn't hesitate. He wrote down the first thing that came to mind: "Sports."
It was supposed to be a harmless answer. After all, sports were a form of exercise, right?
But the moment he finished writing, something strange happened. His head buzzed, his vision blurred, and an icy chill ran down his spine. He blinked hard, thinking maybe he was just overtired, but something was different. He felt... strange. His body seemed to tingle, like every cell was reconfiguring. He swore he heard faint laughter echoing in the air, distant, but unmistakably mocking.
Before he could even process it, his room began to warp. The walls seemed to contract, the posters of atoms and molecules turning into athletic ones, with images of football players, basketball courts, and weightlifters replacing his beloved scientific displays. A strange heat spread through his body, like he was suddenly in the middle of a workout.
His body itself was changing. His arms grew thicker, more muscular, his once slender frame becoming broader and stronger. His clothes seemed to shrink as his muscles swelled, his jeans tightening around his quads and his shirt clinging to his newly developed pecs. His hair, once a soft brown that barely fell past his ears, now grew short and spiky, and his face changed too—more defined, sharper, with a hint of arrogance.
He stumbled in front of his mirror, his heart racing in confusion. The boy looking back at him wasn’t Cameron Hayes. The reflection was of someone else—tall, strong, and undeniably attractive. His face had lost its nerdy softness, replaced by a chiseled jawline and a confident smirk that Cameron had never worn before. And most bewildering of all: the name that he now saw written on the mirror was no longer "Cameron."
It was "Kyle."
A surge of memories flooded his mind—new ones that didn’t belong to him. He remembered his high school’s football team, the parties, the beer, the girls that surrounded him, and the constant urge to be the center of attention. His brain, once filled with complex scientific concepts, now held only simple things like winning games, lifting weights, and picking up chicks. He felt... dumb.
Cameron—no, Kyle—gazed in horror at his transformation. The old him, the geeky, intelligent Cameron, felt like a distant memory, lost in the haze of his new identity. His brain just didn’t care about science or biology anymore. What mattered now was sports, looking good, and impressing people.
As he stood there, confused yet strangely satisfied by his new reflection, his phone buzzed. It was a message from one of the jocks, no doubt someone who’d gotten a laugh out of this transformation. He read it:
"Bro, you look SO ready for the football game tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll show you how to throw a perfect spiral."
The words didn’t even faze him. Kyle just grinned, his mind only focused on the idea of tomorrow’s game. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared about homework. Hell, he didn’t even want to know anything about biology anymore. All he wanted was to hang out with his jock friends, hit the gym, and be the life of the party.
As he grabbed a basketball from his new collection of sporty gear, Kyle felt a surge of energy course through him. His muscles flexed, his chest puffed out proudly, and his confidence was sky-high.
He didn’t need to worry about anything anymore—no homework, no classes, no biology notes. His new life was all about being the king of the school, playing sports, and dating hot girls. And he loved it.
When Kyle walked into school the next day, every head turned. His former friends—quiet, bookish kids—now seemed like distant strangers. They watched in awe and confusion as Kyle swaggered down the hallway, laughing with his fellow jocks and getting high-fives from everyone he passed. He didn’t even remember his old friends' names, nor did he care. They weren’t part of his new world.
The old Cameron was gone, replaced by Kyle the jock, and that was just fine with him. There was no turning back now.
By the time Kyle walked through the halls of his high school the next day, he felt completely at home in his new skin. The sensation of power, of confidence, was intoxicating. Every step he took, he felt more sure of himself, more right in this new role. The people he passed seemed to admire him, their eyes following him as he swaggered down the hallway.
As he approached his first class, he bumped into Madison, the most popular girl in school. With her long blonde hair, perfect smile, and reputation for dating only the top athletes, Madison was everything Cameron had once admired from a distance. Now, she was smiling at him, and her eyes had a sparkle that made Kyle feel like he was on top of the world.
"Hey, Kyle," Madison said, her voice low and flirtatious. "I saw you at the gym yesterday. You’re looking even bigger than last week."
Kyle grinned, puffing out his chest a little. "Yeah, just trying to stay ahead of the game, you know? Got to keep the muscles strong if I want to keep winning."
Madison giggled, her hand brushing his arm as if she was already claiming him. "I like a guy who works hard," she said, clearly impressed by his new look—and more so by his jock swagger.
Kyle’s new brain buzzed with excitement, and he leaned in a little, his voice oozing confidence as he responded, "Well, I don’t just work hard, babe, I dominate."
It felt so natural. Too natural.
Madison laughed again, this time a little more flirtatiously, and Kyle felt the old Cameron—deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind—shudder. But he didn’t care. He was Kyle now.
The bell rang, and as they made their way to class, Madison slid her arm through his, leaning in close to him as they walked. Kyle smiled smugly, enjoying the attention, enjoying the way people looked at them with envy.
Later that afternoon, Kyle met up with his jock buddies in the cafeteria, his tray piled high with a ridiculous amount of food. They were already at their usual table, laughing and tossing around their footballs. Kyle was one of the guys now, and it felt like he was finally where he belonged.
"Yo, Kyle!" Tom, the quarterback, shouted when Kyle walked up, slapping him on the back. "Madison was totally checking you out, man. You’ve got her hooked. She was practically drooling over you."
Kyle chuckled, running a hand through his freshly spiked hair. "Yeah, she’s been eyeing me for a while. What can I say? I’m irresistible."
His friends all laughed in agreement, nodding enthusiastically.
"Dude, you’ve got everything," another guy, Mike, added. "The muscles, the looks, the girls. Seriously, it’s like you were born to be a jock."
Kyle threw his head back, laughing, and for a moment, he actually felt like he was on top of the world. "Hell yeah, man. That’s because I don’t waste time on stupid stuff. I’ve got priorities, you know?"
The guys nodded in agreement, each of them trying to one-up each other with stories of parties, girls, and who’d bench-pressed the most at the gym.
Kyle’s new personality had already become a perfect fit for this crowd. He found himself throwing out one-liners about how much he hated studying, mocking anyone who wasn’t in sports, and bragging about how he could easily pick up a girl just by showing off his abs.
The old Cameron—the one who loved discussing the complexities of plant biology and how to identify different species of insects—seemed like a memory from a distant life. Now, he was the guy cracking jokes about how much homework he’d skipped or how much he could drink without puking.
And as the conversation shifted to tonight’s football game, Kyle grinned even wider. This was it. The peak of high school glory.
"After we crush these guys on the field, we’re gonna hit up Joey’s party," Kyle said with a smirk. "You know, get some drinks, talk to some babes. Maybe even let them take a selfie with me."
The guys laughed and cheered, high-fiving each other. They didn’t even seem to care that the game wasn’t for a few hours. They were all already living for the after-party, and that was enough.
And then, as if on cue, Madison showed up, leaning in from behind and slipping her arm around his waist. "Hey, Kyle," she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ready for tonight? You can show me how many push-ups you can do with me on top of you."
The table erupted in hoots and laughs, and Kyle felt an unfamiliar sense of pride flood him. Madison was his. She was smiling at him, wanting him, and all of his jock friends were jealous.
"Yeah," Kyle replied coolly, "I think tonight’s gonna be a good night."
And just like that, he realized: he didn’t care anymore. The old Cameron, the one who loved biology and was obsessed with books, was a distant, pointless memory. What mattered now was sports, muscles, parties, and making everyone around him know that he was the king of this school.
As Madison kissed him on the cheek, her fingers tracing his abs, Kyle couldn’t help but smirk. This was the life. And there was no going back. Not that he wanted to.