Cute_Kitten

Those diapers are super adorable! The LFB Fantasy is one of my top favorite diapers. but the circus prints are soo cute and perfectly babyish!

That looks really good. I could imagine a Grown Up version of the drink with a lil splash of vodka.

I hear wearing a diaper on Friday the 13th wards off bad luck!

I like the print from what I've seen. It's nice to have more "grown up/ big kid" type prints to choose from in addition to the wide variety of baby prints already available. I haven't seen the diaper fully unfolded or what the front/ back looks like (maybe those pictures exist already and I just haven't seen 'em). I'll wait to hear more about them. 🙂 Cloth backed or plastic? How do they compare to the diapers already on the market? Performance, fit, absorbency, tapes, and cost. A lot of things to discover.

Alas I don't have graphic design skills, I just wanted to say if you end up using a site like Fiver to please be careful since there seems to be an uptick in scammers the last few months on those kind of sites. (Not saying all those sites are bad or that everyone on them is a scammer, but that there seem to have been more scammers popping up and ripping people off so if anyone uses those sites to maybe be a little more cautious than usual).

Glad you found a solution that works for you! It's nice there is such a wide variety of incontinence products available and with a wide range of abosrbencies! Each person has their own individual needs and preferences, and with so many products available it can take some time and patience to find what works best.

Are you sure you didn't find a lost cat? 😉

That sign is definitely part of the bad decision making. And the drugs. Plenty of drugs were involved in that.

Why do I feel like this incident ended with a trip to the ER, a very interesting X-ray, and afterwards behind closed doors a doctor telling their fellow colleagues "So you won't believe where this idiot shoved a spoon..." Also, copious amounts of illegal narcotis may or may not have been involved in the bad decision making.

It's been a while. I've had some major writer's block with this story but it's back on track! Also, apparently there actually exists a Furry Krewe in New Orleanse for Mardi Gras, and that is totally awesome! The furry krewe depicted here in this story are 1000% fictitious, completely made up and not related in any way whatsoever to the real furry krewe. “Zoey. I changed my mind. Let’s go. I don’t wanna see a parade.” His voice was flat and firm, betraying none of the fear or vulnerability he felt. This was dangerous. He hated dense crowds. There was nowhere safe to move. To turn around and go back meant pushing against the flow of tightly packed bodies. Sam had been fine until the crowd suddenly got too dense. The other parades he had seen were old. The well established krewes had well known routes with special reserved seats for people with disabilities. He always made sure to get there well ahead of time before the last minute rush. This parade they stumbled into by surprise at the last minute. Panic twisted in his gut and shone bright in his blue eyes. The change in him immediately caught Zoey’s attention. The press and squeeze of bodies jostled him and knocked him off balance. Zoey stepped up close behind him. Her arms wrapped around his tiny waist and pulled him to her chest. She used her own body to shield and protect him. Her muscles tensed when people bumped into her. The impact knocked them off balance; they stumbled away like they’d walked into a wall. She never lost her balance; all the bumps and jostles that would have sent Sam tumbling to the pavement were mere annoyances for her. She was as immovable as a rock. All fear and tension immediately drained from him the moment her arms encased him. Safe. He felt safe. He wasn’t sure what to make of such a raw emotional reaction. It was primal, felt deep in his bones. It was not a logical reaction; just pure instinct. Somewhere deep inside he knew she would protect him. His brain could make no sense of it. They were barely more than strangers. And she was an annoying perverted jerk. She was also pretty and there was certainly physical attraction between them. He felt the sparks every time their eyes met. In every tease and every touch. He knew she felt the same. It was the reason she was such a persistent pest. Love at first sight. Soul mates. Destined lovers. More romantic drivel and soppy bullshit only naive, gullible morons swallowed. Sam knew all too well how the real world worked. Sometimes, things just made no sense because humans were weird and stupid. Like why some people enjoyed diapers and chose to be padded. There were a variety of reasons that made no sense to the cynical, normal world: everything from sexual stimulation of thick soft padding encasing and rubbing against their genitals to the psychological comfort of feeling safe and secure by having their most intimate parts swaddled and protected in thick padding. He sometimes wondered if it was maladjusted reactions to some deep-seated childhood traumas? Hell if he knew. His thin little pink pullup felt so good, so right on him. So natural. Like being in Zoey’s arms. He belonged there, just like he belonged in diapers. Zoey was taller and slightly bigger than Sam. He fit into her arms like two perfect puzzle pieces, so natural like it was proof they were meant to be. He suppressed the urge to make a disgusted gagging sound at the cheesy, sentimental bilge. “Hey. You okay?” Her voice sounded like it came from far away, underwater. He didn’t respond except to go slack, knees buckling. His crutches almost slipped from his limp grip. The weight of his petite body leaned on her for support. Zoey caught Sam easily. To her, he felt like a toddler. So light. So tiny and fragile. She could manhandle him so easily, could accidentally hurt him if she wasn’t careful. A tongue rough like a dog’s rasped over his baby soft cheek and yanked him out of his thoughts. He yelped in surprise, making her giggle. “Did…did you just …lick me?” An impish grin spread across her face. “Got you out of your head, didn’t it? You were disassociating or something. I feared you were gonna have a panic attack or faint.” “But licking? That’s gross! It’s unhygienic!” “If you’re mad at me, then I know you’re okay.” “Not okay! You licked me! Who does that? Are you a dog?” Sam tilted his head back, trying to intimidate her for all he was worth and willing her to feel an ounce of shame. “Yes. Kinda sorta. More wolf than dog, but since dogs descended from wolves I guess the answer would be in the ballpark of yes. Maybe. There’s human in there too. It’s complicated. You know, a few decades ago this cryptozoologist dude came to New Orleans and did some DNA testing stuff with werewolf fur. There was a tiny bit of human and a dash of wolf but the results were mostly inconclusive.” His plump doll lips twisted into a sneer. “Of course. It was probably all made up for a stupid TV show.” The venom in his voice caught Zoey off guard. He wasn’t just playing along with her earlier silliness. He sounded so frustrated and annoyed by something he claimed not to believe in. Part of him- his subconscious perhaps- believed it. But he was in denial. “You really don’t believe in any of it, do you, Sammy-baby?” To Sam, she sounded so sad for a wild moment that he wanted to believe just for her sake, to make her happy. The heat from her body around him kept the February chill away and made him toasty warm. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Desperate to change the subject, he was suddenly aware of his surroundings again. Her bigger body shielded him from the press of a riotous crowd. The parade had already started. “Hey! Look!” He pointed in an attempt to distract her. “Sammy-” “No! Look! The parade!” His voice grew more insistent. With a sigh, Zoey relented. Music filled the air, a fusion of jazz and hip hop. Sam had been so lost in his head he completely tuned out the raucous world around him. People in animal costumes danced around colorful, glittery floats to hype up the crowd and toss out iconic Mardi Gras throws: beaded necklaces and plastic doubloon coins with the krewe’s emblem on one side and this year’s parade theme on the other. Some krewes had special signature throws unique to that krewe. Like the Krewe of Muses threw hand decorated shoes to a lucky few parade goers. The Krewe of Zulu were infamous for their decorated coconuts. Tucks Krewe threw toilet paper and small plungers. This krewe’s signature throw were small plushies that looked like each of the parade animal costumes. “Oh, fluffies! Those are fluffies! I’ve heard of them online but I’ve never seen them before.” Zoey said. Sam giggled. “Furries. The word is furry.” A sly glint entered his eyes as he looked up at her. “Are you one of them? Since you insist you’re a wolf and all.” “No. I’m not a fluffy. Furry. I’m a genuine werewolf. Lycanthrope if you wanna be all sciency about it.” “So you only wear your fursuit on the full moon?” “The werewolf thing doesn’t work like that. I literally turn into a wolfish creature. My body morphs. Whenever I want. Not every shifter can do that, you know. Change whenever they want. Most can only shift on the full moon.” “That’s a yes then.” “No. I’m not a human who prances around in a costume playing pretend.” “Sounds the same to me.” Oh how the tables had turned. Sam relished it. “They’re nothing alike at all.” Confusion filled her voice. Zoey didn’t realize he was teasing her. “I get it. You’re jealous. You want to be in the parade.” “Not jealous. I’m the real deal. Werewolves and furries are nothing alike.” “Sure. If you say so.” His tone was that of an adult indulging a particularly petulant child. A blue owl danced on top of a sparkly float covered in multicolored flowers, shaking their tail feathers to the music. Throws soared through the air, glinting in the weak afternoon sun. All around Sam, hands reached up to snatch the trinkets before they fell into his reach zone. Some purple and yellow necklaces landed on the pavement near him, untouched. He could stretch out a crutch and drag them to him- “Oh, cher. No no. Don’t do that. Bad luck to pick ‘em up off the ground. Leave ‘em there and let the devil take ‘em.” A tall, round man next to them spoke up. He had way too much glitter in his moustache and a plastic tiara in his hair. He looked down at Sam and Zoey, saw they had no throws then took off half a dozen bead necklaces from the multitudes around his own neck and put them on Sam. “There ya go, cher. Now you’re ready.” He winked and turned his attention back to the parade before either one could thank him. One of the dancers, a hot pink wolf, saw what the tall man in the tiara did. She also saw the little pink wolf plushy on Sam’s bag. She came over and handed another little pink wolf plushy directly to Sam. Sam’s face flushed red at all the attention. He was too embarrassed to speak. “Thank you so much. My girlfriend is just very shy but I know she loves it.” Zoey took the offered plushy for him. He wanted to kill her. The pink wolf patted him on the head like he was an adorable little girl. The action coupled with his pink pullup made him feel so small and vulnerable. He leaned further into Zoey and watched the pink wolf prance back to her fellow furries. Some of them also dressed as babies in comical bonnets, bibs, and diapers over their fursuits. He recognized them as babyfurs. His cheeks flushed pink at this in your face connection to ABDL. To everyone else, the babyfurs were just having silly fun in the spirit of Carnival. “That’s so cute! Now your little stuffie has a friend!” Zoey made the pink wolf plushy kiss Sam on the cheek. “And they’re both gonna bite you for being so annoying.” Sam took the plushy and put it inside his purple bag. He leaned on Zoey, using her for balance. The plastic cuffs at the top of his forearm crutches kept them from slipping off his arms. The babyfurs danced closer. They waved around cheap, generic adult pull ups. The white briefs were decorated in glittery Mardi Gras colors. Sam knew from firsthand experience those kind of pull ups leaked even after a small wetting. “Hey, want a free diaper?” Zoey asked loudly. Before he could reply, she was hooting and shouting at the passing babyfurs. “Hey! She wants a diaper! This girl here!” “No. HE does NOT.” Sam growled out. She took the joke too far again. He was not comfortable with this at all. His face flamed hot. He wanted to say more, to protest louder and let her know he didn’t like it, but the words stuck in his throat. He felt like he was trapped in a waking dream, just a passenger frozen in his seat and she was the mad conductor chugging the crazy train along at full speed. Being called a girl didn’t bother him. But diapers being tossed about like confetti was too surreal, something you only read about in a tacky online diaper story. A hand grabbed the hem of his jean skirt like Zoey was going to yank his skirt up, leggings down, and flash his pink pull up to the world. “Zoey! Don’t you dare!” Panic made his voice high and shrill.

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If only schools in Japan were like they are depicted in anime. 😂 Sensei is totes cool with a student jumping up in the middle of class, brandishing a huge sword or other weapon, and jumping out of a window to go fight a monster, right? And all the girls wear short uniform skirts and flash their panties all the time or their shirts pop open to expose their bras and boobs. 🤣 If not, then everything from Bleach to Rosario Vampire has lied to me. 🤣 You do make a very good point about despite cultural differences (and there are so many between East and West, like Japan and America) at the end of the day, people are all people and despite the differences we're still the same in many ways. Kids in Japan (and Korea I've heard) go to after-school schools called cram schools for extra studying and preperation for very important tests (the results of which will determine things like which universities etc a person would be accepted into if google is correct). I do like how you explored different ways of Eddie and crew handling their diapers in school.

Hope you get to enjoy the football game! There's been several days worth of rain my way, a bit of flash flooding a few towns over too. Hope that doesn't happen in your area!

I drink this much coffee in the mornings:

Oh yikes. I'm so sorry and I hope it does not cost that much!

I'm very glad you enjoy my stories! It's one of the reasons I write, I love sharing my stories with people. This story is going to be a little bit different than my usual works. This first part is a lot of set up to explain the circumstances of both the world of the story and give the main character some context. I'm trying to paint a picture of the main chracter- he's a guy who has done some very heinous things, yet he refuses to accept responsibility for his actions and decisions. The rough draft is several chapters ahead. I just need to find time to sit and edit them so they're ready for posting. I'm hoping this weekend, maybe Friday or Saturday. Diaper prison is definitely a nice diaper fantasy trope! It's a lot of fun, and a number of authors have had some very entertaining and inventive takes on it! I've always wanted to play around with it, and after watching a few documentaries on a special prison this story idea was born. I haven't read all the diapered prison stories out there, so I can't say if my take is new or different, but I do hope it is entertaining. I can say I have not read any diapered prison story that has the same structure or events as mine. (If there is one out there similiar, I haven't read it but the old saying is there is nothing new under the sun so who knows lol!)

That's a good start to the day! Wet diaper, but dry bed= the diaper did it's job. Good diaper! 😁 Doctor appointments are no fun, but I hope your good day contitues into a good visit and good news from the doc!

My go-to day diapers are Sunkiss Masterpiece in pink from Amazon or Northshore Megamax plastic backed. Both are thick, absorbent diapers but that means a longer time between changes for me. For the summer when it's hot and I'm going to be outside, or if I want discretion, I use a cloth backed disposable diaper. My go-to were Rearz' Active Air but with all the tariff things going on, I'm looking around for a new cloth backed diaper. I think there is a cloth backed Megamax? I might give that a go. Or I'll just be stuck in bulky, crinkly plastic even when I don't want all the bulk and noise (even if it means more frequent diaper changes).

Oh yikes. This is just going to further cement ABDL= pedophile in the vanilla/ normie mind (generally speaking). Also, just to be clear for any lurkers (especially if they're not ABDL), what the dude did, trying to kiddie-diddle and solicit a minor for sex, is disgusting, rephrensive, immoral, vile and beyond wrong. I did some splunking in twitter and found some more: A video from a different POV Some more pictures/ info I found: Andy Ngo on X: "Collin Patrick Maguire, 21, of Chicago, was arrested during a Predator Poachers sting operation believing he would be meeting a parent and an 11-year-old girl to abuse in Illinois. He donned a diaper and soiled it within ten minutes of entering the sting house. Maguire has long https://t.co/wbpptBl9Gi" / X This one appears to be his mugshot but I can't confirm so Idk how true it is: スペンサー on X: "@cpmaguire1 https://t.co/khWiYm8HOQ" / X

Reminds me of when patreon did their kink/ ABDL purge.

Yikes! Grab your diapers and ruuuuuun! 🏃‍♀️ Seriously though hope everyone in the area stays safe! Maybe the authorities need to close the area off to keep any thrill-seekers from self-selecting?

Lots of vacation time for me. Sadly not enough funding to actually go on vacation. But I'm looking forward to iced tea or iced coffee, sitting on the back porch and getting some writing and reading done. 😁 Farmer's markets for their delicious home grown vegetables. Doing some home repairs. Taking some vacation days and going Starbucks in the morning, getting a fancy coffee and sitting out back by their fountain and doing some writing.

The idea for this story wouldn't leave me alone until I started writing it just to get it out of my head. This is my take on the diapered prisoner trope along with a dash of dystopian horror. It's set in the future, a few centuries from now. No flying cars, but we've got moon and mars space colonies! And mentions of gangs and cartels doing gang and cartel things. My favorite are two adorable squishy cuddly diaper boys who come in a little later (no, they're not prisoners. They're victims and survivors) and they're the sweet and sugar to balance out any bitter. If you've read any of my other stories, you know I suffer from chronic Happy-Ending-Itis. This story is a bit different for me. I'm experimenting with a few things . I haven't written the ending yet, and I have no idea how that will turn out. 😂 SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL by Cute_Kitten aka C.K. Kat In this day and age, humanity likes to delude itself with beliefs of progression, of evolving civilization with basic dignity and human rights for everyone. Even for us convicts. I’m here to tell you right now that is a bunch of bullshit propaganda. Politicians lie and people give themselves pats on the back for progress that only exists in theory and on paper, not in reality. Who I was on the streets does not matter. What I did in the past does not matter. At least, it shouldn’t matter enough to strip away my basic human rights and violate my dignity. That is what they do in here. They strip you of everything. Literally and figuratively. I made mistakes. I can admit that. I was a poor, fatherless boy and young teenager growing up in lawless, dangerous streets. I had no choice except to do the things I’ve done. Anyone would have done the same. Survival demanded it. What would you have done in my shoes? You would make the same choices me and thousands of other lost, misfortune souls made. Let the vicious, unforgiving streets eat you alive or run the streets? Society gives you no choice. Then, when you get caught- and you will sooner or later because it happens to us all- society demands you pay the price for the choices it forced upon you. Each of us in this life think we’re smarter, we’re more clever, we’re better than the fools that get caught. We all think “I’ll never get caught.I’m not like those losers.” Until they slap the handcuffs on you and shove you into a cell. Then you realize you’re not that smart or you fucked up somewhere. I’m only twenty one and I’m going to spend the rest of my life behind bars. It’s a gross misappropriation of justice. My sentence is purely political, just so the police and politicians can look good, like they’re fulfilling their campaign promises to “get tough on crime and finally clean up the streets after decades of violence and bloodshed. Let’s make this country safe again!” This crackdown on crime resulted in harsh, lengthy sentences that turned criminals into victims of an extreme, vindictive regime. I’ve been speaking in a lot of generalities and abstracts. Let me get specific so I can help you understand. First off, the judicial and penal systems are very different in many countries. Some places execute drug smugglers (and my international gang never dared to set up shop in that country because the police are rabid and trigger happy) while other places hang homosexuals and stone to death women who were raped. My country does not have the death penalty. I wish it did. Death would be a blessed end, a heavenly release from the decades of confinement and torture I have yet to endure. I’m getting ahead of myself. I often do that. Sorry not sorry cuz I’ll probably do it again. So, my country is a tiny, insignificant dot on a map. We’re not a global superpower or political heavyweight in the international or intergalactic spheres. Hell, most people could not find our little country on a map. We’re a proud people who love our country and our culture very, very much. We were the death capital of the Milky Way for over fifty years. For five decades, two gangs ran the country in constant warfare for territory and to eliminate each other. The government barely clung to a tiny corner of land and power. They only maintained existence by striking deals with the gangs. Yeah, that’s right. Even the high and mighty bureaucracy feared us and paid us for the right to exist so we didn’t roll into the capital and curb stomp them into oblivion. The army and police were also terrified of us. We ran the prisons. Our two gangs were huge. International, with branches or tribes in nearly every country. We were working on setting up shop in the moon and Mars space colonies when there was an election. No one in my gang paid any attention. Who cared what boot-licking figurehead won? In a day or two the new president would come crawling on hands and knees, offering up a monetary tribute if we promised not to kill him. Toothless paper tigers, the lot of them. The gangs were the true power and the whole universe knew it. The citizens all feared and respected us. We literally held their lives in our hands, able to kill on a whim without repercussion. Do you see now why I had no choice but to join the gang who ruled my village when I was twelve? Survival of the fittest. Law of the wild, law of the jungle. The law changed with the new president who shook the very foundations of our country. He was a third party candidate. For over five decades, two parties dominated politics and ran on empty promises to wage war on gangs. Civilians, so sick of the death and violence and useless parties, decided to throw all their desperate hopes on a virtual unknown. We laughed. How could a no-name upstart from an insignificant third party change the very fabric of our country, our society, our communities and our very way of life? We knew he would fail just as all those before him failed. If a war broke out between the various gang factions and the government, we knew we would win just as we’d always won in the past. And that’s without the rival gangs calling a ceasefire and teaming up. Hell nah, dog. We don’t play like that, fool. The other gang is our mortal enemy. We would fight and kill each other and the government goons all at once. Even if we did get arrested, we had judges and lawyers in our pockets. We knew how to exploit the law. Even if we did go to prison, so what? We could still issue orders and run things from the inside. This new president said war, and he meant it. We thought it was just the usual political bluster. Months passed. Life carried on as usual while the president worked behind the scenes to destroy our safety nets. Judges were impeached and removed once an investigative panel found them corrupt. Prisons were restructured. A state of national emergency was declared. A new prison, a megamax specifically designed for the most violent gang members, was built in only a few months. Once the preparations were complete, the new president was ready to launch his offensive. A state of emergency was declared. Laws and due process were suspended so that swift, sweeping arrests could be made and streets cleaned up. This new president studied where and how his predecessors failed. He increased the power of the police and established special gang task forces with the sole duty of rounding up gang members. How would they identify gang members? Tattoos. These chumps had five decades to study the gangs and knew well how we operated, what each gang’s tattoos and symbols are and what they meant. Tattoos are very special and important to gang life. You have to earn them. They show off your rank within the gang, the things you’ve done for the gang, your accomplishments, and what tribe or branch of a huge, international gang you belong to. Tattoos give you instant respect and street cred. They identified you, told your story. Any non-gang member who replicated the tattoos because they thought it was cool or wanted to emulate us and appear all tough like a Billy Badass got their throat slit. If a gang member got a tattoo they had not earned, we cut it out of their skin, flaying them alive. The only way to get a tattoo, to get respect and rank, is to earn it. The government goons knew it all, every ink-stained secret compiled into a book for their jackboots. That, too, was new. We waited for the president to come grovel before us, begging on his knees for a peace deal as was tradition after each election. He never came. We should’ve realized what this meant. In our arrogance, we assumed it was because he was terrified and trying to find his balls. The special task forces were new. The Emergency Martial Laws were new. The net was wide; preparations thorough. We didn’t realize the noose was closing until too late. City blocks, suburban towns, small jungle villages; all were hit in random blitz-krieg attacks of armed men in armored, bullet proof cars rolling in and rounding everyone up for inspection. Kinda like the Nazis did to the Jews. Civilians were let go. Anyone with gang tattoos was immediately arrested. Having a gang tattoo was now a crime. No warrants, no due process. Your tattoos rendered you automatically guilty. Non-gang tattoos were immediately released with the other civilians. Skip court and go directly to jail. No bail cuz you got gang ink in your skin. You can talk with a lawyer and judge later. This is a war against violent sub-human scum, as my arresting officer told me. He also claimed they were taking the country back so kids could have childhoods and play outside and go to school without fear of trafficking, being sold or shot. The soldiers went from building to building. House to house, shop to shop, looking everywhere. Civilians- those who were once so terrified of the deadly, brutal consequences of ratting out gang members to the police- now happily cooperated because the soldiers made them feel safe. They even helped the soldiers check by pointing out all of our hiding places. We used to use civilian non-gang affiliated houses and shops when it was convenient for us. Anyone who refused suffered. Maybe a body part was cut off as a punishment and warning to others. Usually a child’s. Parents become swiftly docile when you threaten to cut off their kid’s ear or pluck out an eye. If they lived in gang territory, their lives and their property belonged to the gang. We always made sure to collect our dues. These raids were not a one and done deal. They happened repeatedly at random, snaring more gang members each time. The high ranking members, we who ran things, went straight to the brand new supermax prison built just for us. Now that you have a general idea of what has been going on in my country, let’s get to the heart of the matter. This new super prison, the diapers, the forced incontinence, and the numerous human rights violations. Yes, that’s right. Diapers. We have to wear diapers.

I'm a total java junkie. I can't function in the morning without my morning cuppa. Keurig + milk frother + milk steamer (you can get off-brand ones on Amazon for like $15-20 bucks) and it totally elevates the coffee experience for me. Homemade capuccinos, lattes, fancy hot chocolates, tea lattes. ohh yeees. ☕ 💗💗 I