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Mommies and Daddies

For the grown-ups to discuss ABDL topics. No babies unless you're looking for a 'pankin!


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  1. Site Rules

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  2. The Difference Between Baby & Mommy

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  3. Dressing up

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  4. First time daddy

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  5. I Am A Newbe To This.

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    • Sold out his friend only to end up in diapers himself anyway.  🤣
    • 11. Confession I wasn’t too surprised to find Carter waiting for me as I left the building. She’d met me there yesterday, and the day before as well. I wasn’t quite sure what was different; whether she was uncomfortable talking socially inside the office now, or if there was something else she had to take into consideration. But she wasn’t quite as joyful as she had been before, and I hated to think that I’d hurt her so much. We’d only talked about cooking the last few days, and I hadn’t even managed to tell her about my new assignment. Would she be upset, or relieved? It wasn’t like she had trouble finding tasks now. “Are you okay?” I asked. I knew it was a little too forward, but I needed to have a clear picture in my head before I worked out what I could do to make her feel better. “I tried to put some stories together,” she said. “A list, to give you some ideas. Tags you’ve not read before, including one that… kind of has a special meaning for me. So I could see how you react to it before telling you which one it is.” “That’s smart,” I said, and flashed a smile. “But I really don’t think there’s anything I’d be too disturbed by. Even if I said it’s not for me, I would still respect you and be your friend.” Somehow the words felt hollow to me now, but if she was upset she was doing a good job of not showing it. But I could tell that she was less joyful in general. “Yeah, but… I can’t.” She mumbled, and I didn’t know what I could say to that. “It’s like… Ugh, it’s not rational, I know it’s weird to feel like this, but… The new manager in our office, Miss Noel, she’s taken on a whole load of projects, so like everyone’s reporting to her at times. There’s a lot of people thinking of her as the boss, even with a guy above her. And it’s like she’s got no respect for me at all. Like she tells me off for timekeeping, even if I get everything done on schedule, and she looks down on me, I don’t know why. She gives me work to do, and I always do it well, but it’s like she thinks I’m a bad person because I don’t do the traditional business stuff. She gets mad at me for browsing the net when I’m waiting for a task.” “You should be able to speak to HR about that,” I suggested. “Bracewell’s got your back, hasn’t she? And I don’t think anyone would dare to stand up against her.” “Yeah, but it’s not that. When it’s work stuff, she treats me like a lazy employee, I guess. Like, she respects my work, just not me as a person. And I don’t want to say anything, because the reason it bugs me is… Well, it’s my problem. Like she reminds me of the person I used to be in some ways.” We were walking back to my place now, but without really talking about it we’d taken an indirect route through one of the larger parks. And now she looked around her briefly, giving the impression that she hadn’t realised where we were, or perhaps that she didn’t want to be overheard. “Are you okay?” I asked, and dismissed the impulse that wanted to put a hand on her shoulder. I wouldn’t touch her without permission; my instincts needed to learn that too. “Yeah, it’s just… I was a bully in high school. Not like seriously hurting people, but… I’d point and laugh at the kids who were different. The goth chick and the autistic loner. I never meant to, I just thought they needed me to… I guess teach them how to fit in, so they could be normal and have friends. I thought that my way of socialising was the only way to be popular; and then I found out that my so-called friends didn’t care for me at all, they were just jockeying for position, like a huge biggest-bitch contest. And this woman, I think she’s the same. She’s trying to teach me to be successful, based on her own assumptions of what success looks like. So it’s like… the things she do wouldn’t bother me so much, she’s not doing anything wrong, it’s just that she reminds me of me. The me I don’t want to remember. The aggressive, snide, cooler-than-thou slut.” “I wish there was something I could do to help with that,” I said, and a part of me wondered if I could take her along to my new team. But that would be stretching Buchanan’s kindness, when I hadn’t even proved myself. “Maybe there is,” she said. “It’s not like I need real help. But a chance to really relax would be good. If I had the courage to tell you what I want.” We walked in silence for a couple of minutes. “You’d still tell me?” I said, eventually. “I wasn’t sure if I… crossed a line or something. I slapped your hand.” “More a tap than a slap,” she said, suddenly quieter, and looked down at where she was rubbing one hand with the other. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking now. “That was… a surprise. It’s like the kind of thing my brother used to do, if I reached for something that wasn’t mine, or was still too hot. Maybe reminds me of my father too, but I don’t really remember him. It made me feel like… Like you see me as a little kid who needs clear guidance to help learn the rules.” “I’m sorry. I know you’re–” “No,” she interrupted, and this time actually looked up at me. “No, don’t apologise. It was an instinct, I get that. On some level, sneaking an extra treat straight out of the oven, you saw me as a child and reacted accordingly. And that made me think… I don’t really know what I thought. But it made me feel safe, like there’s an adult to take responsibility and make sure the world doesn’t hurt me. For just a second there I could go back to the way I was before I became so eager to prove how grown up I was. Before I turned into a mean girl. When I could love unconditionally and innocently, maybe.” I couldn’t say anything at all to that. Something had happened when she was young, I was sure of that. She didn’t remember her father well, and a voice in the back of my mind said Bracewell had referred to her parents not being alive. So was being treated like a little kid tripping her nostalgia for the days when they’d been a happy family? I couldn’t even start to unravel that ball of conflicted feelings. “Don’t apologise for treating me like a little kid,” she said again. “Because if you’ve got those instincts, that means you can give me what I really need. And don’t worry, I’m not asking for some kind of therapy. I’ve seen a real shrink, and I know how these urges formed. And I know what can make me feel better, as well. If you can do it, I just want you to be… my Daddy. Is that too weird?” I opened my mouth to respond, and then immediately realised that I didn’t know what my answer was going to be. It sounded like something so simple, but I didn’t completely understand what she was asking me. We walked a couple more steps, and I could hear that she was slowing down, maybe moving away ever so slightly. I might not know for sure what she wanted, but I could feel her nervousness, and I knew that I had to reassure her. But what could I say, without understanding? She’d said she wanted me to treat her like a child, and I knew how I would respond if a kid gave the impression of being on the point of running away in the park. I took her hand. Not tentatively, fingers probing for contact to solicit some kind of confirmation, but gripping her hand firmly so that she couldn’t easily escape. I felt the little twitch of shock there, and every instinct told me that I was going too far; but I held her tightly for a moment, until she started to move closer again. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Daddy?” “I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t want to lead her on, but I also didn’t want to dash her hopes until I actually understood what she wanted. “No, that’s not it. I don’t know what you mean by that. Is it just treating you like a little kid, holding you close so you don’t run away and doing the hard parts for you when we’re cooking? Is there something else there? Is Daddy a pet name, like… Is this something a friend can help you with, or taking our relationship to the next level? I mean… This is all new to me, and it’s like a whole new thing that I don’t know the rules to. I want to be there for you, I’m sure of that much. I want to say yes, I just don’t know what it means, exactly.” “I think I was something like that,” she said. “The first time I found out about it. It’s different things to different people, different kinds of rules. But if you’re willing to try, that’s all I can ask for. And I guess… There’s, like, so many more things I need to explain. Or to ask for.” “I’ve seen stories before,” I said, after a half dozen steps in silence. “Where an innocent girl calls her boyfriend ‘daddy’ and he kind of makes the decisions, as if she’s not mature enough to do it for herself yet. But none of them have shown a particularly healthy relationship, at least not the ones I’ve come across. I thought it was a pet name, but the way you say it… I think you want me to be more like an actual Daddy, don’t you? And I think I might be able to imagine that. Is that what you were going to show me a story about?” “Yeah,” she said, nodding and smiling just a little. “But I couldn’t find any. There’s lots that use the name, but don’t really mean it. And there’s the dangerous ones, where it’s about someone being forced into regression against their will. That’s something that kind of creeps me out. And then… It’s like there’s a whole bunch of different stories, but the ones I can find are all problematic. For different reasons in different ways. And each one has its own little community, recommending other books in the same niche, but I’ve not been able to find the good ones. I’m sure I’ve read one before, but… Like, how do I find something like that? It’s not something there’s a searchable tag for.” “That must be tough,” I said. From the way she talked about it, I was sure that she had spent hours every night looking through different stories, hoping to find something that actually fit the bill without adding all kinds of creepiness that she didn’t want. “But I promise you, I’m not going to judge you for what you want. So if you want to tell me, you can. And if finding a story to show what you want is easier, I’ll still be happy to read it. Okay?” She nodded, and for just a moment I thought I could see the inner child struggling to be seen; embarrassed like a kid who didn’t know the words yet for what she wanted to say, and content to let the adults take care of everything. It was a feeling I’d never even imagined before, but when I saw her glance away, and then fix her gaze on my chest, it said more than any number of words. I knew then that I would be the daddy she wanted; I just had to learn how. So we went to my place, and we cooked. And somehow it felt so natural to remind her to wash her hands after touching the meat, and to stand just a little closer like I was making sure she did everything properly. I made sure to lift the trays out of the oven, and didn’t let her touch them while they were still hot. Just like I would if she was a child who didn’t know how to be careful. Of course, that meant that for the first sample we tasted I had to pick one up and put it in her mouth; which she accepted without question. My mind was running at a million miles a minute, trying to work out what I was supposed to do and say; but somehow I managed to stay calm on the outside, not hinting about how much mental effort this was. And when I actually did the things, it seemed so natural. Perhaps I would find that I enjoyed this after all. But there was a part of me that was secretly glad when we could slump back on the couch, with a plate of experimental cutlets between us and a thousand channels of cable TV to choose from. The last serious decision I had to make today would be about what to watch, and that could have been the easiest of all. There were so many shows we had watched together, from the brilliant to the comedically awful. But when I looked down at her, the awkward mannerisms that maybe she’d been trying to hide, or maybe she was putting them on to seem more childlike… I had to choose one of the kids channels, currently showing cartoons. And I found that I enjoyed the new series of Teddy Lupin more than I would ever have thought possible.
    • We made burgers on the grill. 
    • My first Tinimals tonight.  Getting home really late from work so I already know it'll be very tough to put it to a proper test. 
    • On the subject. I don't know what happened to me. But I use to get crazy excited with diapers and thinking about cute females. Then covid hit. I know the shot was bad and that it was for profit, but I listened to the wrong people and got in the moment. I only too the first two and but never went back for more.  I feel like I was never really the same after that and I felt like I was dying in some ways. Although it could have been a pinched nerve from before my surgery causing it. Strange things happed to me for a few years after. It might not be anything to do with the shot. But all I know is, I went from masturbating's like 2 to 3 times a day to maybe once a month. But then again, I don't see as many girls in my state because half the people are leaving because of the nuts that run it.
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