2011

YES WELCOME TO THE POOPIE PARTY

I'm happy I gave it a try! 😊 Things have changed so much since then.

I'll be 73 next month and my age has made it so much easier to wear diapers. I've always had issues with wetting. I was a bedwetter until 17 years old and had daytime issues which I learned to hide. I was in my 30's the first time I wore a Depends diaper outside the home and it caused my anxiety to spike. I wasn't wearing it out to use it I was wearing it to satisfy my fetish for diapers. Now I'm 24/7 and there's no anxiety or worries about someone finding out. I don't try to be obvious about being in diapers but I don't go overboard trying to hide them either, they're just my underwear. Hugs, Freta

Thanks for this. I do think it’s time to bring up regression with my therapist. I feel like I’m starting to feel ready, but wanting to ease into this and maybe wait to bring up diapers specifically until I see the conversation is going. i do think I’ve been finding more for male that diapers and age regression are a comfort tool and seem to work well for me in the right level of moderation. I’ve been finding dropping an all or nothing attitude about diapers is helping and now finding wearing coming with less shame and more being able to relax and sleep a whole lot better than I usually do not diapered. i do feel some loneliness because of trying I find like minded people in the community. I do think this has been shifting from kink to coping mechanism the past couple weeks. My bad experience with the non-kink group shaming me because I mentioned diapers still sticks with me. I do think I did the right thing to quietly leave when I got a reaction that showed that wasn’t the right space, but now I’m not sure what is the right one for me.

My name is Amy. I’m in my early forties, with long dark hair that falls in soft waves past my shoulders and deep brown eyes that have seen more quiet longing than most. I’ve always been told I carry myself with a warm, attractive grace—but lately there’s a new strength in me, a certainty that settled in the moment I finally understood the man I’d married. The Conversation Between Us I sat beside him on the edge of our bed one evening, speaking softly but firmly. “I see you,” I told him. “I see how you relax when I choose for you, how you breathe easier when you don’t have to be strong. You don’t want to be the man of this house, do you?” He looked down, cheeks flushing pink, voice trembling. “I’m sorry… I never wanted to be big. It feels… heavy. All of it. I just want to be small. Held. Cared for.” “And the clothes?” I asked gently. “The things you hide. The soft fabrics, the frills, the satin and lace?” He nodded, eyes glistening. “It feels like… home. Like I’m who I was always meant to be. A sweet little baby girl. But I’m ashamed. I’m a grown man, and I want to wear nappies and dresses and ribbons in my hair.” “Then let’s stop being ashamed,” I said, brushing hair from his face. “From now on, you don’t have to hide. You’ll be my precious baby girl. I’ll dress you, care for you, make all the hard decisions. But you must be honest with me—about everything.” That was when he whispered the rest. About how small he was. That even fully grown, he measured barely two-and-a-half inches, and around so slim it hardly seemed there at all. That intimacy had always been a source of shame, never pleasure. “I can never give you what you need,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Amy. I’m so sorry.” I held him. “We’ll find a way,” I told him. “But things will change. You’ll be my baby, and I’ll be the one in charge. Do you accept that?” He melted into my arms. “Yes. Please. Call me Lily. That’s the name I’ve always loved.” Amy Speaks to Janice A few days later I met my friend Janice for lunch, and told her everything. I told her about Lily, about the nappies and dresses and ribbons, about how peaceful he looked in soft pink, about the nursery and the crib. And then I told her the harder part—about our marriage bed, about his size, about how we’d never truly been together. Janice’s eyes went wide. At first she laughed—loud, startled laughter—then her hand went to her mouth in shock, and then she leaned forward, fascinated. “Oh, Amy… I never would have guessed. He always seemed so quiet… but this? He’s not your husband anymore, is he? He’s your little girl.” “More every day,” I said. “And he’s happier. But I’m still a woman, Janice. I want what I’ve never had.” Janice nodded, serious now. “Then take it. He can’t give it to you—and he doesn’t want to be the one who does. He wants to be your baby. So you find yourself a real man. Tall, broad, strong… and well-endowed. Someone who can fill you the way you deserve. Bring him home. Let Lily see that her place is with you as your child, not as your lover. Cuckold him, Amy. Open his eyes—and yours.” We went shopping that afternoon. Janice helped me pick out dresses that clung to my curves, satin lingerie that felt like silk against my skin, stockings, suspenders, everything that made me feel every inch a desirable woman. Then she helped me set up my profile. “Be honest,” she said. “The right man won’t run. He’ll be intrigued.” The Second Date with Des I met Des soon after. Tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, with dark eyes and a warm, steady smile. He was confident, masculine in every way that Lily was soft and gentle. On our second date, over dinner, I told him everything. “I need to be honest with you,” I began. “I’m married. But my husband… he doesn’t want to be my husband anymore. He wants to be my baby girl. We call him Lily now. He lives in a nursery we made from the spare room, sleeps in a large crib. Right now, he’s at home wearing a sheer pale pink babydoll nightdress—short, frilly, lace-trimmed—thick cloth nappies, and over them pretty ruffled pink knickers lined with plastic to keep him dry. His hair is long now, tied back with pink ribbons. He sucks a dummy and carries a plush toy everywhere.” I paused, then told him the rest. “And physically… he’s very small. He can never satisfy me. I want a real man, Des. Someone strong, someone who can give me what I’ve been missing. If you come to my house, you’ll see Lily. He’ll be there. He’ll know exactly why you’re there.” Des listened without interrupting. When I finished, he leaned forward, voice low and steady. “Thank you for trusting me. Lily sounds sweet—and he’s lucky to have you. And Amy… I’m exactly what you’re looking for. Come home with me, and I’ll show you.” Janice Babysits — Des Comes Over A week later, I invited Des to the house. Janice came over too, to sit with Lily—or rather, to watch, and laugh, and help me settle him before Des arrived. We went into the nursery. Lily was lying in his crib, sucking happily on his dummy, clutching a soft pink bear. He was exactly as I’d described: sheer pale pink nightdress falling to his hips, frilly at the hem, over a thick, bulky cloth nappy that made his little shape round and babyish. Over the nappy he wore those pretty ruffled pink knickers, smooth and rustling, lined with translucent plastic. His hair was in two long pigtails tied with satin ribbons. “Look at you,” Janice giggled, leaning over the crib rail. “Pretty little Lily. All dressed up and waiting for Mummy.” Lily blushed, but didn’t remove his dummy. He looked up at me with wide, trusting eyes. I reached into the crib and slid my fingers gently along the leg openings of his nappy. It was warm—and very wet. Lily squirmed, cheeks turning bright pink, and I felt him hardening beneath my touch, small and unmistakable. “Oh my,” I teased, smiling. “Someone’s a little excited, aren’t they? But we can’t leave our sweet girl in a wet nappy now, can we?” Janice laughed openly as I untied the ribbons, pulled down his frilly knickers, and unpinned the soaked cloth. When I peeled it away, his small, delicate body was exposed—tiny, pink, and hard, barely visible at all. Janice covered her mouth, then laughed again, soft and bright. “Oh Amy… he really is perfect, isn’t he? Just a tiny little thing. Poor baby.” Lily whimpered and buried his face in his hands, but I kissed his forehead. “It’s all right, sweetie. You’re perfect just as you are. Now—be a good girl. Mummy has a visitor. You’ll watch, and you’ll be good, won’t you?” He nodded quickly. I didn’t change him—not yet. Instead I pulled a fresh dry nappy loosely into place and dressed him again in his frilly knickers, then wheeled the crib from the nursery down the hall and into our large master bedroom. Des Arrives — Everything Changes Des walked in, tall and broad, filling the doorway. He saw the crib beside the bed, saw Lily peeking out, wide-eyed and blushing, and then looked at me. I saw his gaze travel over Lily’s little outfit, over the ribbons and lace, and he smiled—not with mockery, but with knowing warmth. “Hello, Lily,” he said, voice deep and calm. Lily stared, then quickly looked away, clutching his bear tighter. I turned to Des, and as I began to undress, he did the same. I watched his strong hands remove his shirt, his trousers, and then—Janice stood in the doorway, watching, hand over her mouth—Des stood before us fully revealed. He was magnificent: tall, broad, and his manhood rose thick and proud, long and heavy, far larger than Lily could ever imagine. I caught my breath, knowing that soon he would be mine. I climbed onto the bed, and Des joined me. Everything that followed was powerful, overwhelming, and everything I had longed for. I felt every inch of him, deep and filling, stretching me in ways I had never known possible. I cried out, my body arching beneath him, waves of pleasure sweeping through me as he moved with strength and rhythm, giving me everything he had. Beside us, in his crib, Lily watched. I looked over once and saw him—eyes wide, knuckles pressed to his mouth beneath his dummy, face flushed bright red. I reached down, pulled off my own damp satin panties, and gently slipped them over his head, drawing the fabric so the warm, fragrant crotch rested right over his nose. He inhaled, deep and shaky, and then I pushed his dummy back between his lips. “Smell that, baby,” I whispered. “Smell Mummy. This is what a real man gives me. This is what you never could.” Lily breathed me in, eyes rolling back, sucking his dummy harder than ever, his small body trembling in time to my cries. The bed creaked and shook, the headboard thudding against the wall, and Des drove deeper still, burying himself completely, filling me to the hilt. I cried out my lover’s name, over and over, my body shattering again and again in waves of pure, overwhelming bliss. Beside me, Lily lay quiet and obedient, wrapped in my scent, watching the man take his wife in a way he never could. When it was over, Des held me. And in the crib beside us, my sweet little Lily lay quiet and still, his eyes half-closed, his face still wrapped in my satin, his dummy still in his mouth. He looked up at me, and I leaned down and kissed his forehead. ........................................................................................................ Afterward, Des sat on the edge of the bed, still bare and magnificent, and crooked a finger toward the crib. “Come here, little Lily,” he rumbled, his voice deep and firm. “Mummy’s baby girl needs to learn her manners, don’t you think?” Lily froze, eyes wide, his face still flushed pink beneath the damp satin covering his head. He looked to me, uncertain, and I nodded calmly. “Go on, sweetie. Be a good girl for Des. He’s going to teach you how to behave properly.” Trembling all over, Lily climbed shakily from the crib, clutching his frilly nightdress around himself. He stood small and shy before Des, tiny against his broad frame, his little erection still peeking out from beneath the lace hem. Des reached out, caught Lily gently by the arm, and turned him right over his lap—so Lily lay draped across his powerful thighs, his feet dangling, his face toward the floor. “There now,” Des said, steadying him with one large hand pressed firmly between Lily’s shoulder blades. “Nice and secure. You’re going to take this like the good little girl you are, aren’t you?” Lily whimpered, his hands fisting against the carpet, and nodded quickly. Des reached down and lifted the back of Lily’s sheer pink nightdress, then the frilly lace-trimmed knickers beneath, baring his soft, pale bottom to the air. “Such pretty pink skin,” Des murmured, and then—whap!—his open palm landed firmly, warm and stinging, right across Lily’s rounded cheeks. Lily yelped, high and startled, his whole body jerking across Des’s lap. “One,” Des said calmly. Whap! “Two.” Whap! Whap! Whap! Firm, even, rhythmic smacks landed one after another—stinging, bright, and impossible to ignore. Lily squirmed and kicked his stockinged feet, his face turning bright red, and little gasps and whimpers spilled from him. I stood nearby, arms folded, smiling warmly, while Janice leaned in the doorway beside me, both of us giggling openly. “Look at him,” Janice whispered, half-laughing. “Red as a cherry! Serves the little thing right. All those frills and ribbons and he still needs a firm hand.” Des kept it up, steady and unrelenting. “This is what happens when you watch what isn’t for you, little one. You sit quietly in your crib. You mind Mummy. And you remember exactly who’s the man in this house now.” Another round of crisp spanks, and Lily’s bottom was glowing bright pink, warm and smooth beneath Des’s hand. He was squirming harder now, tiny hips shifting, little whimpers turning into soft, tearful sniffles—but he didn’t fight back. He couldn’t. Des was far too big, far too strong, and Lily lay completely helpless, pinned gently but firmly across those powerful thighs. “Please… please…” Lily whimpered, his voice tiny and teary. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” “Good,” Des said, giving one last firm, playful smack that made Lily jump. “You remember that apology. And you remember who’s in charge.” He smoothed Lily’s knickers and nightdress back down, then lifted Lily gently upright and set him on his feet. Lily stood there swaying, eyes wet and shiny, cheeks flushed bright red, bottom stinging warm beneath his frilly clothes. He looked up at Des—huge, broad, still magnificent—and then down at the floor, trembling all over, his tiny erection still bobbing helplessly despite the tears. “Say thank you,” I told him gently. Lily sniffled, wiped his eyes with a fist, and whispered, “Th-thank you… sir…” Des chuckled, reached down, and ruffled Lily’s hair—soft, condescending, amused. “Good girl. Now get back in your crib. And keep those pretty hands to yourself unless you’re told otherwise.” Lily scurried back to the crib, clambered in, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He lay there still pink-cheeked, eyes wide and shiny, stinging and flustered and thoroughly humiliated—and yet strangely, visibly calmed. He knew his place now. He knew exactly how small he was, exactly how much power Des held, and exactly where he belonged: quiet, obedient, and watched over. Janice wiped her eyes, still laughing softly. “Oh, he took it beautifully! Red bottom and teary eyes and not a single word of protest. Perfect little sissy baby, isn’t he?” I looked over at the crib, at Lily peeking out from beneath the blanket, and smiled. “Perfect,” I agreed. “Now he knows exactly what happens when he needs reminding.” Would you like me to continue from here—perhaps moving into Emily’s first visits and what she tells her friends?       “Good girl,” I whispered. “My sweet, perfect baby girl. Mummy’s got you now.” And for the first time in our lives, we were both exactly where we belonged. Would you like me to continue the story from here, or focus on any particular moment or character in more detail?