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Cloth Diapers & Panties
For the Cloth Diaper Lovers and their Panties of choice.
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April BillsRaised $270 of $400 target
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Posts
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Azumi smiled and left the bedroom quietly. She called Aiko and Konyo to dinner. After dinner, she bathed them, changed their diapers and put them to their respective cribs and checked on the sleeping Rei. -
By henrilakes11 · Posted
Chapter 3 : A Deeper Connection Present Day The couple finished putting away the groceries. Alice grabbed a glass of water and sank onto the couch. Alex snuggled up beside her. Without a word or glance between them, she pulled up her oversized sweatshirt, unlatched her bra, and offered her breast. He lowered his head, latched onto her nipple, and began nursing. Warm milk filled his mouth as she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You were hungry,” she chuckled, rubbing his back. Alex nodded, grinning around a mouthful of milk. No baby talk or cooing. Just steady eye contact and the soft sounds of suckling and swallowing. As Alice cradled him, she reflected on how this ritual had begun. Six months earlier, Alex had raised the idea of nursing for closeness and comfort, what she now saw as a natural extension of his diaper-wearing lifestyle, which she'd supported for three years. She'd researched inducing lactation, taken supplements, and committed to three daily sessions. They'd worked as a team, deepening their bond and Alex's appreciation for her body's capabilities. Alex sighed contentedly, then looked up. “All set?” she asked as he rose, wiping his mouth. “Yes, thank you, Alice. I needed that.” His eyes shifted downward. “You okay, babe? Something on your mind?” She adjusted her sweatshirt. He took her hand, the mood turning serious. “Nursing from you feels right. Just like the diapers.” So far, it had been supplemental. A post-work comfort, a pre-sleep unwind, a drowsy weekend wake-up. But lately, as her supply grew with their sessions, Alex had pondered more. He wanted her milk as his primary nutrition. And she seemed to enjoy it too. “I want to try nursing exclusively,” he said. “Make it my main source of food. It just feels right.” Alice nodded thoughtfully, unsurprised by the commitment it implied. “My body's up for it. My supply is increasing. My breasts feel heavier during the day. I'll eat and hydrate more. If it works for both of us, let's do it.” “And you know,” she added, “you don't have to handle your diapers alone. I can check you, change you when you need.” Alex grasped both her hands, and looked at his wife, grateful for all that she was. “Thank you.” -
I was starting to wake up and rub my eyes as the pacifier i had in my mouth falls out as its clipped on to my dress so it wouldn't go missing. My hair alittle bit out of place from how i slept as i felt the car stop moving as you notice movement in the back seat. -
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Hi Bapypants! An interesting question….🤔 Basically, I didn’t resent my parents because of the diapers. But I do remember that on family walks in the woods, I would OFTEN just run off, often for hours, just to make my parents worry. This happend ALSO because of questions (in calm mood son this family airings) about my bedwetting. I didn’t really get angry until I was 14 or 15, than often because of my parents’ reservations about my friends. And now that I think about it, before that it was mostly because of school, where my grades were often poor due to my severe dyslexia. I also was really angry whenever doctor’s appointments or visits to psychologists were coming up. I never found out a real reason why I had to go there. They’d say, “Because you’re so small for your age,” or “Because we’re worried about school,” or “Because you’re so unbalanced”…. but we always ending talking about „bedwetter“ one or the other way. Today I believe it was always about “my bedwetting.” I sensed back then that they were playing with a stacked deck, and I was angry. On the other hand, I never wanted to admit the (suspected) reason to myself. Too much shame came up with those thoughts. I didn’t see myself as a bed-wetter, after all…. I was generally extremely insecure, with low self-esteem, which manifested itself in many suicidal thoughts starting at age 9. But I was never really angry at my parents because of the diapers (sometimes “just” threatened). One wet bed and I was devastated for a long time. A second one and I couldn’t find an excuse anymore. A third one, and the question was, “Tom, Is this starting again?” and before long, diapers were once again the “solution” for a while. Back then, in our social circle, it was important for mothers to have their children potty-trained day and night by age two, if possible. If that didn’t work out, the shame was great at first, but diapers were quickly resorted to again. It was also about showing the child that they were “acting like a baby.” I suppose they hoped that the shame would motivate the child. I, too, was potty-trained by age 2. When I later started wetting the bed, a babysitter suddenly put a pair of diaper pants on me one evening. My younger brother was just in the process of becoming potty-trained; I was very ashamed and fought against it for the next few weeks. But I was still little. Later, whenever I had to sleep over at a different babysitter’s house with my brother, she would put me in yellow plastic diaper pants with cloth diapers inside. (I think actually my mother had to buy those as the babysitter would otherwise have refused to watch us). It was the “most natural” thing in the world, and my mother knew it and had prepared me for it (by talking to me about it, which was even more embarrassing for me). I think because it had been introduced to me that way by others from early childhood (I immediately hated this babysitters for it), it later became “normal” for me when my mother also resorted to diapers again for a few weeks. On top of that, though, I developed a massive fascination with diapers (yellow plastic diaper pants) when I was 5 or 6. My childhood up until age 13 went like this: I used to play with old plastic pants (my mother knew about it), but whenever I had to put one on again because I’d wet the bed, I felt utterly ashamed and wanted to get rid of it right away. I think that has to do with how the two babysitters raised me. But I didn’t feel intense anger toward my parents because of their reaction to my bedwetting. I was angry at myself… I couldn’t control it… sorry for being that long…
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