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2011

2011 Survey Questions


11 topics in this forum

  1. In A Word... 1 2 3 4

    • 93 replies
    • 22.1k views
    • 40 replies
    • 11.6k views
  2. Down There! 1 2 3

    • 54 replies
    • 28k views
  3. Relationships 1 2 3 4

    • 80 replies
    • 21.3k views
  4. Nap Time! 1 2

    • 37 replies
    • 9.3k views
  5. Socially Acceptable 1 2 3 4

    • 82 replies
    • 20.8k views
  6. Crossing Over 1 2

    • 32 replies
    • 11.3k views
  7. Does That Make Me Crazy... 1 2

    • 31 replies
    • 9.7k views
  8. Vices 1 2

    • 39 replies
    • 10.8k views
    • 24 replies
    • 6.9k views
  9. Snack Time!

    • 16 replies
    • 4.4k views
  • Current Donation Goals

    • Raised $400 of $400 target
    • Raised $0
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  • Posts

    • Best bet is to prep the skin beforehand.....clean skin / baby lotion / powder
    • I used to worry more about this, although I won't say that it's complete left my mind. If I'm doing something particularly risky, such as going up on the roof of my house, I'll tend to want to be in a white diaper, so that at least when the paramedics cut the clothes off of my broken body, they'll be less likely to exchange glances when they see a unicorn-themed diaper, or whatever.   Although I will say this - I have friends in nursing and friends in ER medicine, and the stuff they have seen... someone in a diaper is a 1 out of 10, and if it's a spaceman diaper, maybe a 2. The person viewing you might have helped someone remove a jam jar from their arse, earlier that morning. They really won't care that you like plastic underwear.  I have confirmation of this, as well, in that I once wore a pull-up to an appointment with a urologist. It was an introductory appointment, and I did not expect any in-pants work, but within about 10 minutes, he wanted my pants down, so that he could assault me, with his resident for an audience. I thought, "Oh, God, he's going to ask me about the pull-up for sure, and I'm not even here for that...", but he completely ignored it. Did not ask one question. And that's his specialty - if I were seeing, say, a cardiologist, I would imagine they'd have been even more blind to my choices in the underpants department. 
    • Tacos can be quick, relatively speaking, and you can dose them with hot sauce to your liking, while your mom can leave hers un-weaponized. 
    • Chapter 9 :  Inside, Ryder found a child’s nursery—unlike any he had ever seen. The room had been transformed into a miniature Amazon Rainforest, with lush murals curling across the walls and carefully placed decorations that brought the jungle to life. Sunlight—or something like it—filtered through leaves painted on the ceiling, casting shifting shadows on the floor. But as beautiful as it was, there was something unsettling about the room. The air felt too still, too deliberate, as if the nursery itself were waiting, watching. Every rustle of painted leaves, every shadow in the corners made Ryder’s stomach tighten. This was no ordinary room—and whatever had been here before him might not be gone. Just as Ryder turned to leave, Marshall’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder like iron. “What are you doing in the forbidden room?” The words hit him like a punch. Sharp. Demanding. Final. Ryder’s chest tightened. His heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his throat. His stomach lurched violently, bile rising as fear coiled in his gut. He wanted to speak—but the words wouldn’t come. His body betrayed him, trembling, frozen, and then the worst happened: he wet himself. Heat flamed across his face. Shame burned brighter than any fear he had ever known. He could feel every heartbeat, every panicked breath, every trembling limb exposed under Marshall’s stare. He wanted to vanish, to sink into the floor and escape the room entirely. Marshall’s eyes widened in alarm. “Chase!” he shouted, his voice sharp and urgent. “Now!” Chapter 10 :   Ryder’s knees threatened to buckle, cold sweat slicking his palms. The nursery—the walls, the painted leaves, the eerie stillness—all of it dissolved into a blur of dread and mortification. His mind screamed at him to run, but his legs refused. Every second stretched, unbearably long, as the full weight of what had just happened crushed him. Chase stepped into the nursery, his expression gentle as he approached Ryder. “Hey… what happened?” he asked softly. Ryder couldn’t speak. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his body trembling. Chase knelt beside him and explained that he needed to get out of his wet clothes before he became sick. He spoke to Ryder as if he were a small child, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s okay,” Chase said. “Marshall and I will take care of everything. You’re safe here.” Ryder nodded, swallowing hard, and let Chase help him. Marshall watched with a devious smile, though he wisely let Chase take the lead—after all, it had been his idea. Chase guided Ryder to a padded table and helped him sit down, carefully removing his shoes, socks, underwear, and pants. Everything was happening so quickly that Ryder couldn’t process it. He tried to speak, but Marshall interrupted first. “Ryder,” Marshall said, his tone firm but playful, “listen to your Papa”—he gestured to himself—“and your Daddy”—he smiled warmly at Chase—“we’re here to take care of you.” Ryder’s mind raced. He didn’t know what to say. And then, slowly, it began to make sense. The nursery, the decorations, the elaborate Amazon Rainforest theme—it wasn’t designed for a small child. It had been meant for someone like him. After Chase had helped Ryder undress, he gently laid him on the padded table and began the task of diapering him. Marshall took the opportunity to hand Ryder a pacifier and a stuffed toy—both carefully chosen by the couple. Seeing Ryder hold them gave both men a quiet, gleeful satisfaction. “Raise your bottom so Daddy can put your diaper on,” Marshall said firmly. Ryder’s heart pounded. Fear gripped him. Disobeying could bring punishments he couldn’t imagine. Chase carefully powdered Ryder’s skin, rubbing the powder in with precise motions. Once he was done, he taped the diaper snugly in place. On the front, a smiling tree frog stared up, its cheerful face in stark contrast to Ryder’s humiliation. When Chase lifted him off the table and onto the nursery floor, Marshall smiled. “Don’t you look just splendid, Ryder?” he said. “Very cute indeed,” Chase added. Ryder wanted to disappear, to escape immediately, but his body felt frozen with fear. He instinctively tried to remove the pacifier, but Marshall stopped him. “Once your paci is in, it stays in—until me or Daddy removes it. Try taking it out yourself, and it will be replaced with one that straps in so you can’t remove it.” Ryder’s eyes widened in shock. With trembling hands, he resumed sucking on the pacifier for comfort. “Good boy,” Marshall said. “Good boys get treated nicely by their Papa and Daddy when they listen and behave. I think it’s time for a certain little boy to have some time in his crib while we set off for our journey home.” “Home?” Ryder tried to speak, but only nonsense baby babble came out. “Yes, sweetie. We’re taking you home. A beautiful place, with lots of grass, far from nosy neighbors—just you, me, and Daddy. It’s going to be wonderful, isn’t that right, honey?” “Yes, dear,” Chase added. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. And Ryder, you’re going to be one spoiled baby boy.” Ryder sat in the crib, pacifier in place, clutching his stuffed toy. He watched as the two men left the nursery and ascended the stairs. Alone, fear and disbelief washed over him. “What did I get myself into?” he whispered to himself.  
    • I love girled cheese sandwiches.
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